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^  PRINCETON,  N.  J.  ^ 


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Professor  Raymond's  System  of  COMPARATIVE  /ESTHETICS 

I. — Art  in  Theory.     8°,  cloth  extra $r.75 

*'  Scores  an  advance  upon  the  many  art-criticisms  extant.  .  .  .  Twenty  brilliant  chap- 
teis,  pregnant  with  suggestion."- — Po/>nliir  Sciejtce  Monthly. 

"A  well  grounded,  thoroughly  supported,  and  entirely  artistic  conception  of  art  that  will 
lead  observers  to  distrust  the  charlatanism  that  imposes  an  idle  and  superficial  mannerism 
upon  the  public  in  place  of  true  beauty  and  honest  workmanship." — The  New  York 
Times. 

"  His  style  is  good,  and  his  logic  sound,  and  ...  of  the  greatest  possible  service  to  the 
student  of  artistic  theories." — Art  Joiirtial  (London). 

II.— The  Representative  Significance  of  Form.     8°,  cloth  extra.  $2.00 

"A  valuable  essay.  .  .  .  Professor  Raymond  goes  so  deep  into  causes  as  to  explore  the 
subconscious  and  the  unconscious  mind  for  a  solution  of  his  problems,  and  eloquently  to 
range  through  the  conceptions  of  religion,  science  and  metaphysics  in  order  to  find  fixed 
principles  of  taste.  .  .  .  A  highly  interesting  discussion." — The  Scotsman  {Y.^\-n\i\\x^\{). 
_  "  Evidently  the  ripe  fruit  of  years  of  patient  and  exhaustive  study  on  the  part  of  a  man 
singularly  fitted  for  his  task.  It  is  profound  in  insight,  searching  in  analysis,  broad  in 
spirit,  and  thoroughly  modern  in  method  and  sympathy," — The  Univcrsnlist  Leader. 

'Its  title  gives  no  intimation  to  the  general  reader  of  its  attractiveness  for  him,  or  to 
curious  readers  of  its  widely  discursive  range  of  interest.  ...  Its  broad  range  may  re- 
mind one  of  those  scythe-bearing  chariots  with  which  the  ancient  Persians  used  to  mow 
down  hostile  files." — The  Outlook. 

III.— Poetry  as  a  Repre|entative  Art.     8°,  cloth  extra  .        $1.75 

"  I  have  read  it  with  pleasure,  and  a  sense  of  instruction  on  many  points." — Francis 
Turner  Palgrave.,  Professor  of  Poetry,  Oxford  University. 

II  Dieses  ganz  vortreffliche  Werk." — Englische  Studien.,  Universitdt  Brnslau. 
'An  acute,  interesting,  and  brilliant  piece  of  work.   ...    As  a  whole  the  essay  deserves 
unqualified  praise." — N,  Y.  Independejit.  • 

IV.— Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture  as  Repre^ntative  Arts. 

With  225  illustrations.  8°  .  .  .  .  Y,  ,'  $2.50 
^  *•  The  artist  will  find  in  it  a  wealth  of  profound  and  varied  learning ;  of  original,  sugges- 
Uve,  helpful  thought    .     .     .     of  absolutely  inestimable  value." — The  Looker-on. 

"Expression  by  means  of  extension  or  size,  .  .  .  shape,  .  .  .  regularity  in  outlines 
.  .  .  the  human  body  .  ,  .  posture,  gesture,  and  movement,  .  .  .  are  all  considered 
,  ^.^    .    A  specially  interesting  chapter  is  the  one  on  color." — Current  Literature. 

'The  whole  book  is  the  work  of  a  man  of  exceptional  thoughtfulness,  who  says  what 
he  has  to  say  in  a  remarkably  lucid  and  direct  manner." — Philadelphia  Press. 

v.— The  Genesis  of  Art  Form.     Fully  illu.'^trated.     8°    .         .         $2.25 

"  In  a  spirit  at  once  scientific  and  that  of  the  true  artist,  he  pierces  through  the  mani- 
festations  of  art  to  their  sources,  and  shows  the  relations,  intimate  and  essential,  between 
painting,  sculpture,  poetry,  music,  and  architecture.  A  book  that  possesses  not  only  sin- 
gular value,  but  singular  charm." — A^.   Y.  Times. 

"A  help  and  a  delight.  Every  aspirant  for  culture  in  any  of  the  liberal  arts,  including 
music  and  poetry,  will  find  something  in  this  book  to  aid  him." — Boston  Times. 

'  It  is  impossible  to  withhold  one'^s  admiration  from  a  treatise  which  exhibits  in  such  a 
large  degree  the  qualities  of  philosophic  criticism." — Philadelphia  Press. 

VI. — Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry  and  Music.     Together  with 
Music  as  a  Representative  Art.     8°,  cloth  extra       .        $1.75 

"  Prof.  Raymond  has  chosen  a  delightful  subject,  and  he  treats  it  with  all  the  charm  of 
narrative  and  high  thought  and  profound  study." — New  Orleans  States. 

", T*?^  reader  must  be,  indeed,  a  person  either  of  supernatural  stupidity  or  of  marvellous 
erudition,  who  does  not  discover  much  information  in  Prof.  Raymond^s  exhaustive  and 
instructive  treatise.   From  page  to  page  it  is  full  of  suggestion." — The  Academy  (X-or^^oxi). 

VII.—  Proportion  and  Harmony  of  Line  and   Color  in   Painting, 
Sculpture,  and  Architecture.     Fully  illustrated.    8"^      .      $2.50 

"Marked  by  profound  thought  along  lines  unfamiliar  to  most  readers  and  thinkers.  .  .  . 
When  grasped,  however,  it  becomes  a  source  of  great  enjoyment  and  exhilaration.  ...  No 
critical  person  can  afford  to  ignore  so  valuable  a  contribution  to  the  art-thought  of  the 
day."—  The  A  rt  Interchange  (N.  Y.). 

"  One  does  not  need  to  be  a  scholar  to  follow  this  scholar  as  he  teaches  while  seeming  to 
entertain,  for  he  docs  both." — Burlington  Ilawkeve. 

'The  artist  who  wishes  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  color,  the  sculptor  who  desires  to 
cultivate  his  sense  of  proportion,  or  the  architect  whose  ambition  is  to  reach  to  a  high 
standard  will  find  the  work  helpful  and  inspiring." — Boston  Transcript. 

Q.P.PUTNAM'S  SONS,   New  York  and  London 


ART  IN  THEORY 


AN  INTRODUCTION  TO 
THE  STUDY  OF 


COMPARATIVE  yESTHETIC 


BY 


GEORGE  LANSING  RAYMOND,   L.H.D, 

PROFESSOR   OF  ^ESTHETICS   IN    PRINCETON    UNIVERSITY 
1UTHOR   OF   "the    ORATOr's   MANUAL,"    "  THE    REPRESENTATIVE   SIGNIFICANCE   CI 
FORM,      "  POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART,"  "  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND 
ARCHITECTURE   AS    REPRESENTATIVE     ARTS,"    "  THE    GENESIS   OF   ART- 
FORM,"      "  RHYTHM     AND     HARMONY    IN     POETRY    AND     MUSIC," 
"  PROPORTION    AND     HARMONY    OF    LINE    AND    COLOR    IN 
PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE,''    ETC. 


SECOND  EDITION  REVISED 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW   YORK  LONDON 

«7  WEST  TWENTY-THIRD  STREET  24  BEDFORD  STREET,  STRAND 

^\t  f\mtherbotktr  ^ress 
1909 


Copyright,   1894 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S    SONS 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  Londcrn 
.     By  G.  p.  Putnam's  Sons 


Ubc  'Rnfclierbocfecr  i^ress,  flew  l!?orlj 


PREFACE. 

A  PROMINENT  Review,  in  noticing  the  first  book 
published  of  this  series,  entitled  '*  Poetry  as  a  Repre- 
sentative Art,"  took  the,  author  to  task,  apparently,  for 
not  following  exclusively  that  which  he  by  no  means 
ignored, — the  prevailing  and  popular  method  of  Historic 
Criticism.  Had  the  critic  read  the  book  more  carefully, 
he  would  have  had  no  difficulty  in  detecting  in  the  course 
criticized  the  result  of  a  deliberate  purpose.  That  historic 
criticism,  in  the  last  few  decades,  has  been  of  vast  benefit  to 
truth  and  to  thought  of  every  kind,  no  one  can  deny.  But 
it  has  its  limits ;  and  there  is  no  region  in  which,  if  applied 
exclusively,  it  is  fitted  to  do  more  harm  than  in  that  of 
aesthetics.  Holding  that  all  the  products  of  the  arts  and 
all  the  changes  in  their  general  conditions  and  effects  are 
subject  to  the  laws  of  development,  two  of  its  most  promi- 
nent propositions  are :  first,  that  art  is  the  expression  of 
the  spirit  of  the  age  in  which  it  appears  ;  and,  second,  that 
all  art,  for  this  reason,  is  of  interest  to  the  artist.  Neither 
proposition  is  true.  If  there  be  anything  which,  very 
often,  the  higher  arts  are  distinctly  not,  it  is  the  ex- 
pression of  the  spirit  of  their  age.  Greek  architecture  of 
the  fourth  century  before  Christ,  and  Gothic  of  the  thir- 
teenth after  him,  may  have  been  this  ;  although  even  they 
were  developments  of  what  had  been  originated  long  be- 
fore.    But  all  the  unmodified  examples  of  Greek  or  Gothic 


IV  PREFACE, 

architecture  produced  since  then — and  at  certain  periods 
they  have  abounded  to  the  exclusion  of  almost  every 
other  style  of  building — have  been  expressions  not  of  the 
age  in  which  they  were  produced,  but  of  that  long  past 
age  in  which  their  models  were  produced.  The  same  in 
principle  is  true  in  all  the  arts.  The  forms  most  prevalent  in 
poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  even  in  music,  are  always  more 
or  less  traditional,  determined,  that  is,  by  the  artists  of 
the  past.  As,  in  its  nature,  the  traditional  is  not  essen- 
tially different  from  the  historic,  it  is  doubtful  whether 
these  conditions  will  not  continue  in  the  direct  degree  in 
which,  in  the  study  of  art,  the  historic  is  made  to  dominate ; 
and  it  is  not  at  all  doubtful  whether  the  criticism  calling 
itself  historic  is  not  belying  its  title  when,  in  a  proposition 
such  as  has  just  been  stated,  the  historic  fact  is  ignored 
that  forms,  which  logically  ought  to  develop  according  to 
the  spirit  of  an  age,  very  often,  owing  to  a  servitude  to 
conventionality  that  interferes  with  a  free  expression  of 
originality,  do  not  so  develop. 

If  this  first  proposition  fall  to  the  ground,  of  course 
the  second  must.  But  there  are  other  reasons  why  this 
must  be  the  case.  The  claim  of  the  historian  that  all  art 
is  of  interest  and  deserving  of  study  is  not  true  as  applied 
to  the  artist  as  an  artist.  To  him  only  such  art  is  of  in- 
terest as  has  attained  a  certain  high  level  of  excellence, 
which  it  is  the  object  of  criticism  to  discover,  and  which 
excellence,  as  we  know,  has  appeared  only  at  certain 
favored  periods.  It  is  worth  while  to  notice,  too,  as  just 
suggested  above,  that  these  periods  are  not  necessarily 
identical  with  those  that  are  under  the  influence  of  the 
historic  tendency.  The  effect  of  this,  unless  counter- 
balanced, is  to  direct  attention  to  forms  as  forms,  not  to 
these  as  expressions  of  spirit ;  or,  if  so,  only  of  the  spirit 


PREFACE,  V 

of  the  past.  The  practical  results  of  such  a  tendency 
are,  in  the  first  place^  as  already  intimated,  imitation,  and, 
in  the  second  place,  degeneracy.  The  nature  of  the  mind 
is  such  that  it  must  vary  somewhat  that  which  it  imitates ; 
and  if  its  variations  be  not  wrought  in  accordance  with 
the  principles  underlying  the  first  production  of  the  imi- 
tated form,  the  original  proportions  of  the  different  parts 
of  this  as  related  to  one  another  are  not  preserved,  and 
the  whole  is  distorted.  For  this  reason,  it  is  fully  as  im- 
portant— to  say  no  more — for  the  artist  to  continue  to 
work  in  accordance  with  the  methods  of  the  great  masters 
as  to  continue  to  produce  the  exact  kind  of  work  that 
they  did.  And  if  we  inquire  into  these  methods,  we  shall 
find  that,  in  art  as  in  religion,  philosophy,  and  science, 
the  one  fact  which  distinguishes  not  only  such  charac- 
ters as  Socrates,  Aristotle,  Confucius,  Gautama,  Paul, 
Copernicus,  and  Newton,  but  also  Raphael,  Angelo, 
Titian,  Shakespeare,  Goethe,  Beethoven,  and  Wagner, 
is  that  they  have  resisted  the  influences  of  traditional- 
ism sufficiently,  at  least,  to  be  moved  as  much  from 
within  as  from  without ;  as  much  by  their  own  feeling 
and  thinking  as  by  those  of  others  who  have  preceded 
them,  and  whose  works  surround  them  ;  as  much,  there- 
fore, by  that  which  results  from  a  psychologic  method — 
for  we  must  not  forget  that  there  is  always  a  necessary 
connection  between  one's  method  of  studying  art  and  of 
practising  it — as  by  that  which  follows  an  historic.  In  an 
age  when  the  influence  of  the  latter  is  so  potent  that  not 
one  in  ten  seems  to  be  able  to  detect,  even  in  his  own  con- 
ceptions, the  essential  differences  that  separate  archeology 
from  art,  it  is  well  to  have  emphasized  again,  as  is  done  in 
every  period  when  production  is  at  its  best,  the  import- 
ance of  the  former,  i,  e.,  the  psychologic  method. 


Vi  PREFACE, 

So  much  in  explanation  of  the  chief  endeavor  of  this 
book,  which  is  to  get  back  to  the  first  principles  of  our 
subject  as  revealed  in  the  way  in  which  they  manifest 
themselves  in  the  conditions  of  mind  as  related  to  those 
of  matter. 

No  comment  seems  to  be  required  here  with  reference 
to  the  somewhat  extended  consideration  in  this  volume 
of  the  different  theories  concerning  beauty  ;  or  with  refer- 
ence to  the  way  in  which  the  conclusion  derived  from 
them  has  been  made  to  meet  the  prominent  requirements 
of  them  all ;  as  well  as  to  explain  certain  of  the  character- 
istics of  beauty,  like  complexity,  unity,  and  variety,  and 
certain  also  of  its  effects,  both  physiological  and  psychical. 
Everybody  will  recognize  that  the  treatment  of  these 
subjects  was  simply  essential  to  the  completeness  of  the 
discussion  in  hand. 

A  few  words,  however,  may  be  in  place  in  order  to  make 
more  clear  the  reason  for  the  use  of  the  term  representative 
to  express  the  general  effect  produced  by  all  the  art-forms. 
This  term  is  not  a  new  one,  though  it  has  not  previously 
been  applied  without  more  limitation.  Nor  has  it  been  se- 
lected in  ignorance  of  the  distinction  which  certain  English 
critics  have  made  between  what  they  call  the  representa- 
tive and  the  presentative  arts  ;  but  in  the  belief  that  this 
distinction  springs  from  misapprehension,  and  in  its  results 
involves  that  tendency  to  error  to  which  misapprehen- 
sion always  leads.  The  way  in  which  the  term  came  to 
be  chosen  was  as  follows.  In  order  to  simplify  the  task 
of  art-criticism,  it  seemed  important  to  search  for  a  single 
word  expressive  of  an  effect,  the  presence  or  absence  of 
which  in  any  work  should  determine  the  presence  or 
absence  in  it  of  artistic  excellence.  This  word  represen- 
tative, without  any  distortion  of  its  most  ordinary  mean- 


PREFACE,  Vii 

ings,  was  found  to  meet  the  requirements.  It  was  found, 
moreover,  that  it  could  be  applied  to  all  the  art-forms 
considered  in  either  of  the  two  relations  which  exhaust 
all  their  possibilities  ;  considered,  in  other  words,  either  as 
expressive  of  thought  and  feeling  in  the  mind  of  the 
artist,  or  as  reproducing  by  way  of  imitation  things  heard 
or  seen  in  the  external  world.  To  illustrate  this — and 
from  an  art,  too,  which  we  are  told  is  merely  presentative 
— let  one  be  listening  to  an  opera  of  Beethoven  or  Wag- 
ner, and  desirous  of  determining  the  quality  of  the  music 
as  conditioned  by  its  power  of  expression — how  can 
he  do  this  ? — In  no  way  better  than  by  asking :  first,  what 
phase  of  feeling  is  the  music  intended  to  represent ;  and, 
second,  does  it  represent  what  is  intended.  With  equal 
success,  he  can  use  the  same  questions  with  reference  to 
the  story  told  in  a  ballad,  the  characters  delineated  in  a 
drama,  the  events  depicted  in  a  painting,  the  ideal  typified 
in  a  statue,  the  design  embodied  in  a  building.  He  can 
apply  the  same  questions,  too,  to  the  forms  considered  as 
imitations  of  things  heard  or  seen.  Handel's  "  Pastoral 
Symphony,"  and  the  music  of  the  Forest  Scene  in  Wagner's 
"  Seigfried  "  express  not  only  certain  phases  of  feeling, 
but  these  as  influenced  by  certain  surrounding  conditions 
of  external  nature ;  and  though,  for  reasons  to  be  given 
hereafter,  music  is  the  least  imitative  of  the  arts,  it  is  not, 
for  this  reason,  as  some  have  claimed,  merely  presentative. 
Such  works  as  have  been  mentioned  must  contain  at  least 
enough  of  the  imitative  element  to  represent,  by  way 
of  association,  if  no  more,  the  supposed  surroundings. 
The  same  may  be  affirmed  of  the  accessories  or  situations 
in  a  ballad  or  a  drama ;  and  of  the  colors,  proportions,  or 
natural  methods  of  adapting  means  to  ends  in  a  painting, 
a  statue,  or  a  building. 


vlii  PREFACE. 

The  term  representative,  as  thus  applied,  moreover,  is 
appropriate  not  only  in  the  sense  indicated  by  ordinary 
usage,  but  in  the  specific  sense  indicated  by  its  etymology. 
The  peculiarity  of  art,  and  of  all  art,  is  that  it  not  only 
presents,  but  literally  re-presents  ;  that  is,  presents  over 
and  over  again  in  like  series  of  movements,  metaphors, 
measures,  lines,  contours,  colors,  whatever  they  may  be, 
both  the  thoughts  which  it  expresses  and  the  forms  through 
which  it  expresses  them.  These  facts,  however,  will  be 
brought  out  hereafter.  They  have  been  mentioned  here 
merely  in  order  to  suggest  the  general  conception  in 
which  the  thoughts  of  this  essay  had  their  origin.  That 
purpose  having  been  accomplished,  there  is  no  call  for 
further  comment. 

Princeton,  N.  J.,  October,  1893. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Introduction xix 

I. 

Nature  and  Art i-6 

Art  a  Method — Artlessness  and  Art  Illustrated — Diflfering  not  as 
Originality  from  Imitation — Nor  as  the  Natural  from  the  Unnatural 
— But  as  an  Immediate  Expression  of  Nature  from  Mediate  or 
Represented  Expression,  Art  being  Nature  INIade  Human  or  Nature 
Re-made  by  Man — Definitions  of  Nature,  Human,  and  Re-made — 
This  Definition  of  Art  Applicable  Universally — Art-Products,  not 
Creations,  but  Reproductions  of  Nature — And  also  Results  of 
Design  which  is  Distinctively  Human — Known  to  be  Art  in  the 
Degree  in  which  both  Natural  and  Human  Elements  in  it  are 
Recognizable — Conclusion. 

II. 

Form  and  Significance  in  Art  ....     7-16 

The  Fine  Arts,  The  Arts,  Les  Beaux-Arts — These  Manifest  the 
Finest  and  most  Distinctive  Art-Qualities — Arts  Ranked  by  the 
Degree  in  which  they  most  Finely  and  Distinctively  Reproduce 
Nature  :  Useful,  Operative,  Mechanical,  Technic,  Applied  Arts  in 
which  the  Appearance  is  Non-Essential  ;  Ornamental  and  Esthetic 
Arts  of  Design  in  which  the  Appearance  is  Essential — In  these  Lat- 
ter, Form  is  Essential — Forms  Modelled  upon  those  of  Nature  most 
Finely  and  Distinctively  Reproduce  it,  and  Belong  to  The  Fine 
Arts  or  The  Arts — Universal  Recognition  of  the  Study  of  Nature 
as  Essential  to  the  Production  of  these — Forms  Addressing  and  Ex- 
pressing the  Higher  Intellectual  Nature  through  Sound  and  Sight 
are  Finely  and  Distinctively  Human, — So  are  Forms  Attributable 
to  a  Man  as  Distinguished  from  an  Animal — These  Forms  are  such 
as  are  Traceable  to  the  Use  of  the  Human  Voice — And  of  the 
Human  Hand — What  Arts  are  the  Highest,  and  their  Two  Main 
Characteristics — The  Artist,  the  Artisan,  and  the  Mechanic — Effec- 
tiveness of  the  Products  of  the  Former. 


X  CONTENTS. 

III. 

PAGE 

Form  and  Significance  as  Antagonistic:  Classi- 
cism AND  Romanticism i7~33 

The  Two  Antagonistic  Requirements  of  Art — Mention  of  the 
Symbolic — Of  the  Realistic  or  Naturalistic — Origin  of  the  Terms 
Classic  and  Romantic — Classicism — Its  Earlier  Influence — Later 
Tendency  toward  Imitation  —  Toward  Decline  in  Music  and 
Poetry — In  Painting  and  Sculpture — Reason  of  this  in  Architecture 
— Revivals  in  Styles — Romanticism — In  it  the  Idea  Supreme — 
But  the  Best  Results  are  Developed  from  Previous  Excellence  in 
Form — Tendency  of  Romanticism  in  Music — Wagner's  Dramatic 
Effects — Romanticism  in  Poetry — Whitman — In  Painting  and 
Sculpture — Early  Christian  Art — Beneficial  Effects  upon  Roman- 
ticism of  Classicism — Condition  in  our  own  Times — Architecture  : 
Exclusive  Classicism  Debasing — Exclusive  Romanticism  Debasing 
— The  Best  Periods  Manifest  Both — Necessity  of  Considering  the 
Double  Character  of  Art. 

IV. 

Art-Forms  as  Representing   rather   than   Imi- 
tating Natural  Forms  ....     34-46 

Necessity  for  Making  the  Requirements  of  Form  and  Significance 
in  Art  Seem  One — Necessity  of  Finding  a  Bond  of  Unity  between 
the  Arts  and  their  Aims — Two  Requirements  Radically  Different 
— The  Results  of  this  upon  Theories  and  Methods — Can  the  Two 
Requirements  be  Made  to  Seem  One  ? — The  Character  of  Artistic 
Reproduction  of  Natural  Forms  not  merely  Imitative  :  In  Music 
— In  Poetry — In  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — Why 
Imitation  alone  is  not  Sufficient — Art  must  Reproduce  the  Effect 
of  Nature  upon  the  Mind — This  Done  by  Representation — Con- 
nection between  this  Fact  and  the  Appeal  of  Art  to  Imagination — 
To  the  Sympathies — In  Music — Poetry — Painting,  Sculpture,  and 
Architecture — The  Artist's  Reason  for  Reproducing  the  Forms  o£ 
Nature  with  Accuracy. 

V. 

Art-Forms   as  Representing  rather  than  Com- 
municating Thought  and  Feeling       .        .     47-61 

The  Second  Requirement  of  Art — The  Materials  of  Artistic  Ex- 
pression— The  End  of  it  not  to  Communicate  Thought  or  Feeling 


CONTENTS.  xi 

PAGE 

— Distinct  Communication  Lacks  the  Reproduction  of  Effects  of 
Nature  which  Art  Needs — Art  Emphasizes  the  Natural  Factors 
Used  in  Expression — Elaboration  of  Art-Forms  Necessitates 
Repetition — These  Constructed  by  Repeating  Like  Effects  in 
Music — Poetry — Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — Repe 
tition  Involves  Representation — As  Does  all  Expression,  whether 
Thought  Comes  from  without  the  Mind — Or  from  within  it — 
Representation  the  Method  of  the  Higher  Arts — These  Represent 
the  Effects  of  Nature  upon  the  Mind  and  also  of  the  Mind  upon 
Nature — Connection  between  this  Latter  Fact  and  the  Expression 
in  Art  of  Imagination — And  of  Personality — Why  Art  Elaborates 
Expressional  Methods — Artistic  Uses  of  Nature  as  Revealing 
Personality  and  Suggesting  God — Art  Creative — Possibly  so  in  a 
very  Deep  Sense — The  Divine  Faculty. 

VI. 

Representation  of  Natural  Appearances  as  In- 
volving THAT  OF  THE  MiND     ....      62-68 

Further  Explanations  Needed — Two  Ways  of  Showing  a  Similar 
Method  Involved  in  Representation  of  Nature  and  of  Mind — Line 
of  Thought  to  be  Pursued  in  the  Two  Following  Chapters — 
Limitations  of  the  Natural  Appearances  Used  in  Human  Art  as 
Distinguished  from  Animal  Possibilities — Its  Development  from 
Vocal  Sounds  must  Call  Attention  to  their  Agency  in  Expressing 
Thought  and  Feeling  Irrespective  of  Ulterior  Material  Ends — The 
Same  True  of  its  Development  from  Objects  of  Sight  Constructed 
by  the  Hand — Connection  between  these  Facts  and  Leaving  the 
Materials  of  Art  Unchanged  from  the  Conditions  in  which  they 
Appear  in  Nature. 

VII. 

The  Art-Impulse 69-80 

Art-Products  not  Planned  to  Obtain  Material  Ends  are  Due  to  Play 
rather  than  Work — Concurrence  of  Opinions  of  the  First  Authorities 
on  this  Subject — Views  of  Schiller  and  Spencer — Errors  in  Views 
of  the  Latter — Imitation  the  only  Invariable  Characteristic  of  Play 
— Excess  of  Life-Force  as  Indicated  in  the  Activity  behind  the  Play- 
Impulse — Life-Force  behind  the  Art-Impulse  may  be  Mental  and 
Spiritual — Philosophic  Warrants  for  Ascribing  Art  to  Inspiration— 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Art  Consciously  Gives  Material  Embodiment  to  that  whid  as  its 
Source  in  Subconscious  Mental  Action — Practical  Wan  ant  for 
Ascribing  Art-Effects  to  Inspiration. 

VIII. 

Representation  of  the  Mind  as  Involving  that 

OF  Natural  Appearances  ....  81-96 
Connection  between  the  Art-Impulse  and  Imitation  of  Natural 
Appearances — A  Utilitarian  Desire  to  Produce  Something  Fitted 
to  Attract  Attention  as  a  Mode  of  Expression  not  the  Reason  for 
Art-Imitation — But  Charm  or  Beauty  in  the  Object  Imitated, 
which  has  had  an  Effect  upon  Desire — What  Forms  of  Nature  made 
Human  Reproduce  these  Beautiful  Effects? — Natural  Intonations 
and  Articulations  of  the  Voice  as  Developed  into  Music  and  Poetry 
— Natural  Marking,  Shaping,  and  Combining  by  the  Hands  as 
Developed  into  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — Connection 
between  an  Expression  and  an  External  Product — Both  Essential 
to  Art  in  Music — In  Poetry — In  the  Painting  and  Sculpture  of 
Figures — Of  Still  Life — The  only  Explanation  of  the  Existence  of 
these  Arts — Architecture  Apparently  both  Useful  and  ^Esthetic — 
So  are  All  Arts— rArchitecture  as  Representing  Man — As  Repre- 
senting Nature — Its  Further  Possibilities  in  the  Latter  Direction — 
Not  Separated  in  Principle  from  the  Other  Arts. 

IX. 

The  Higher  as  Distinguished  from  other  Repre- 
sentative Arts 97-105 

Other  Representative  Arts  besides  those  already  Considered — 
Elocution,  Pantomime,  Dancing,  Costuming,  Jewelry,  Personal 
Adornment,  and  Dramatic  Art — These  do  not  Necessitate  a  Product 
External  to  the  Artist — Oratory  Necessitates  neither  this  nor  an 
End  Different  from  One  of  Utility — Decorative  Art,  Landscape 
Gardening,  and  Artistic  Phases  of  Civil  Engineering  have  less 
Possibilities  of  Expression — Yet  All  these  are  Allied  to  the  Higher 
Arts  and  Fulfil  the  Same  Principles — What  is  Meant  by  the 
Humanities  ? — Phonetic  and  Plastic  Art — Esthetic — Vagueness  of 
these  Distinctions — Appropriateness  of  the  Term  Representative — 
The  Terms  :  Arts  of  Form,  Beaux  Arts,  Fine  Arts,  Belles  Lettres  ; 
The  Higher,  The  Higher  Esthetic,  and  The  Higher  Repre- 
sentative Arts. 


CONTENTS,  Xlll 

X. 

PAGB 

Representation  in  Art  as  Determined  by  Nat- 
ural Appearances  :  Theories  Concerning 
Beauty 106-122 

Form  as  Manifested  in  Nature  and  Reproduced  in  Art — Charac- 
teristically Possesses  Beauty — This  should  Predominate  over  the 
Ugly,  but  Need  not  Exclude  it  —  The  Distinction  sometimes 
Drawn  between  Beauty  and  Expression — Necessity  for  a  Definition 
of  Beauty — The  Three  General  Views  with  Reference  to  it — 
Mention  of  Writers  Conditioning  it  upon  Form — Of  Writers  Con- 
ditioning it  upon  Expression  Traceable  to  Man — To  a  Source 
above  the  Man — The  German  Idealists — Mention  of  Writers  Con- 
ditioning Beauty  partly  upon  Form  and  partly  upon  Expression — 
The  Term  Beauty  as  ordinarily  Used  Indicates  a  Truth  in  All 
Three  Theories,  so  far  as  they  do  not  Exclude  the  Truth  in  the 
Others — Beauty  may  be  in  Form  aside  from  that  in  Expression — 
It  may  be  in  Expression  aside  from  that  in  Form — But  Beauty 
is  Complete  only  in  the  Degree  in  which  that  of  Form  and  of 
Expression  are  Combined. 

XI. 

Beauty  as  Absolute,  Relative  ;  Objective,  Sub- 
jective, etc. 123-130 

The  Term  Beauty  as  Used  by  the  Foremost  Authorities  Indicates 
the  Same  as  its  Ordinary  Use  Noticed  in  the  Last  Chapter — 
Mention  of  Writers  who  Consider  Beauty  Relative — Of  those  who 
Distinguish  Relative,  Natural,  Derived,  or  Dependent  Beauty 
from  that  which  is  Essential,  Divine,  Typical,  Absolute,  Intrinsic, 
Free,  etc. — Distinction  between  Relative  and  Absolute  Beauty  the 
most  Common — All  these  Distinctions  Imply  an  Appeal  to  the 
Senses  through  Forms  and  to  the  Mind  through  Suggestions — 
Beauty  as  Objective  and  Subjective — Mention  of  Writers  Con- 
sidering it  Objective  :  these  Claim  it  to  be  Recognized  through  its 
Subjective  Effects — Mention  of  Writers  Considering  it  Subjective  : 
these  do  not  Deny  its  Origin  in  Forms  Considered  by  them 
Objective — They,  too,  Mean  that  Beauty  must  be  Judged  by  its 
Effects — Mention  of  Other  Writers  Holding  Unequivocably  that 
Beauty  is  both  Objective  and  Subjective. 


XIV  CONTENTS, 

XII. 

PAGB 

Beauty   the   Result   of    Harmony   of    Effects, 

Physical  and  Mental         ....     131-147 

Results  of  our  Review  of  Different  Theories — The  Term  Effects 
and  its  Suggestions — Illustrations  of  Beauty  as  Attributable  to 
Effects  upon  the  Senses  and  the  Mind  and  Both — As  Incomplete 
because  Attributable  to  Effects  upon  the  Senses  and  not  the  Mind, 
or  upon  the  Mind  and  not  the  Senses — Complexity  of  Effects  thus 
Suggested  as  Essential  to  Beauty — Connection  between  this  and 
our  Present  Line  of  Thought — Complexity  of  Effects  Essential  to 
the  Beauty  of  Single  Sounds,  Lines,  and  Colors — Much  more  in 
Combinations  of  these  in  Art-Products — Besides  Complexity,  Va- 
riety, Unity,  and  the  Phase  of  the  Latter  Termed  Harmony  of 
Effects  Necessary  to  Beauty — Harmony  of  Tone  Explained — Of 
Color  —  The  Relations  of  Both  to  Vibratory  Action  upon  the 
Acoustic  or  Optic  Nerves — Harmony  of  Effects  as  Produced  in 
Rhythm  and  Proportion — Some  Sense-Effects  Entering  into  Har- 
mony are  Produced  without  Conscious  Action  of  the  Mind,  but 
Some  are  not — Thought  and  Emotion  as  Determined  according  to 
Physiological  Psychology,  by  Vibratory  Action  upon  Nerves  of 
Hearing,  Sight,  and  the  Whole  Brain — But  Thought  and  Emotion, 
Spontaneous  or  not  Conveyed  through  the  Senses,  may  also  De- 
termine Hearing  and  Sight — Effects  Causing  Beauty  in  this  Case 
are  Produced  in  the  Mind — Facts  with  Reference  to  Vibratory 
Action  in  Connection  with  all  Conscious  Sensation  should  not  be 
Ignored,  but  Need  not  be  Solved  in  an  Esthetic  System — Sufficient 
Data  for  this  Obtained  by  Accepting  Effects  in  their  Ascertainable 
Conditions. 

XIII. 

Further  Considerations  Showing  Beauty  to  Re- 
sult FROM  Mental  as  well  as  from  Physi- 
cal Effects  148-160 

End  in  View  in  this  Discussion — Complexity  of  Effects  can  be 
Recognized  only  through  Mental  Analysis — A  Form  Conjured  by 
Imagination  Coincident  with  Every  Form  Appealing  to  the  Senses 
—This  Fact  Illustrated  in  the  Case  of  Music— Of  Poetry— Of  the 
Arts  of  Sight — Harmony  of  Effects  as  Produced  within  the  Mind 


CONTENTS.  XV 

PAGE 

Means  Likeness  of  Effects — Between  Effects  upon  the  Ear  and 
Mind  as  in  Music  and  Poetry — Between  Effects  upon  the  Eye  and 
Mind  as  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — Between 
Effects  of  Different  Elements  of  Significance  as  Appealing  to 
Recollection,  Association,  and  Suggestion  in  All  the  Arts — Ad- 
ditional Methods  of  Showing  the  Presence  of  Mental  Effects — 
Effects  Operating  Harmoniously  upon  the  Senses,  not  Harmo- 
nizing with  those  upon  the  Mind — Effects  not  Operating  Har- 
moniously upon  the  Senses  Harmonizing  with  those  upon  the 
Mind — These  Facts  Necessitate  Including  Mental  Effects  with 
those  of  Beauty — But  Complete  Beauty  Demands  Harmony  of 
both  Physical  and  Mental  Effects — Significance  as  well  as  Form  an 
Element  of  Beauty. 

XIV. 

Beauty  Defined  :  Taste 161-171 

Recapitulation — Definition  of  Beauty — Limitations  of  the  Defi- 
nition— Relation  of  the  Beautiful  to  the  Sublime,  the  Brilliant,  and 
the  Picturesque — Applies  to  Appearances  in  both  Nature  and  Art 
— In  both  Time  and  Space — What  the  Definition  necessarily 
Leaves  Unexplained ;  and  how  in  this  System  this  is  to  be 
Remedied — All  Effects  of  Beauty  Developed  from  the  Principle 
of  Putting  Like  with  Like — This  Principle  as  Applied  by  the 
Artist  in  Accordance  with  the  Action  of  the  Mind  in  Other 
Analogous  Matters — As  Exemplified  in  Art  in  Accordance  with 
Effects  as  Manifested  in  Nature — This  Conception  of  Beauty  and 
its  Sources  Solves  the  Question  as  to  whether  Art  can  be  merely 
Imitative  or  merely  Expressive — Taste — Correspondence  of  its 
Action  to  that  of  Conscience  and  Judgment — Standards  of  Taste. 

XV. 

The  Definition  of  Beauty  tested  by  its  Accord 

WITH  the  Conceptions  of  Others      .         ,     172-184 

How  the  Definition  of  Beauty  in  the  Last  Chapter  Accords  with 
the  Theory  Considering  Beauty  as  an  Effect,  Including  the  Con- 
ceptions of  Shine  and  Splendor — As  Harmony — One  in  the 
Manifold,  or  Unity  in  Variety — Perfection — Utility — The  Good,  th^ 


XVI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

True — As  an  Effect  of  Association — As  Symbolic — As  Identical 
with  Life  or  Vital  Force — With  Emotive  Force  or  Love — With 
an  Appeal  to  the  Sympathies,  or  of  Personality — Truth  of  these 
Latter  Views,  as  also  of  the  Theory  of  Association — The  Platonic 
and  Aristotelian  Theories  again — Limitations  of  each — Difficulty 
of  Finding  a  Basis  of  Agreement  upon  which  to  Reconcile  them — 
The  Method  Pursued  in  this  Discussion  will  do  this — The  Play- 
Impulse  Tending  to  Imitation  Indicates  Effects  from  Within  and 
also  from  Without — Natural  Forms  Affecting  the  Mind  Indicate 
Effects  both  Formal  and  Mental — In  what  Regard  each  of  the 
Theories  is  True — Each  is  Defective  in  so  far  as  it  Excludes  the 
Truth  in  the  Other. 

XVI. 

Representation  in  Art  as  Developed  by  Mental 

Conditions  ;  Considered  Historically    .     185-195 

Introduction — Effects  of  Appearances  upon  the  Mind  are  Inclusive 
both  of  Forms  and  of  Principles  of  Formation — And  are  Produced 
both  upon  the  Senses  and  upon  the  Thoughts  and  Feelings — The 
Three  Inseparable  Objects  of  Consideration  in  the  Present  Inquiry 
— Order  of  Development  in  the  Modes  of  Expression — As  Sur- 
mised from  Prehistoric  Records  Rationally  Interpreted — As  Shown 
from  Historic  Records — In  the  Lives  of  Individuals  among  Animals 
— Among  Men — Also  in  the  Influence  upon  Expression  of  Some 
One  Event  or  Series  of  Events  in  the  Individual's  Experience — 
Physical  Thrill,  and  Vocal  Expression  Leading  to  Music — Definite 
Opinions,  and  Verbal  Expression  Leading  to  Poetry — Conflicting 
Opinions  Leading  to  Oratory — Contemplation  of  Facts  as  they 
Appear  Leading  to  Painting  and  Sculpture — Planning  and  Re- 
arranging Leading  to  Architecture. 

XVII. 

Representation  in  Art  as  Developed  by  Mental 

Conditions  ;  Considered  Physiologically    196-202 

Conditions  of  Natural  Influence  and  States  of  Consciousness  as  Rep- 
resented in  each  Art — Ideas  in  the  Mind  and  the  Influence  from 
^Vithout  Compared  to  Ic?  and  to  Currents  Flowing  into  an  Inlet— 


CONTENTS,  xvii 

PAGE 

The  Condition  Corresponding  to  Music,  Poetry,  Painting,  Sculp- 
ture, and  Architecture — This  Comparison  Corresponds  to  Physical 
Facts,  Large  Vibrations  of  the  Nerves  Causing  Sounds,  Small 
'  Vibrations  Causing  Colors — Largest  Nerve  Movement  Exerted  in 
Connection  with  Music,  Less  with  Poetry,  Less  with  the  Colors  of 
Painting,  and  Least  with  the  less  Brilliant  Colors  of  Sculpture  and 
Architecture — Our  Nerves  are  directly  Conscious  of  the  Vibrations 
of  Sounds,  as  in  Thunder,  but  not  of  those  of  Color — This  Fact  as 
Applied  Mythologically  and  Medicinally. 

XVIII. 

Representation  in  Art  as  Developed  by  Mental 

Conditions;  Considered  Psychologically  203-216 

Mental  Facts  are  in  Accord  with  what  has  Preceded — Inarticulate 
Cries  Representative  of  Suddenly  Excited  Emotions — Why  these 
Cries  are  Intelligible — Association  and  Comparison — Emotion  Co- 
extensive with  Consciousness — Music  the  Language  of  the  Emotions 
— The  Indefiniteness  of  its  Effect — Its  Degree  of  Definiteness — 
Gives  Direction  to  Sentiment  with  the  Least  Limitation  to  Freedom 
— Musical  Ideas — Observation  of  Natural  Forms  and  Experience 
of  Human  Sentiments  are  both  Conditions  Underlying  Musical 
Composition — Influence  from  Without  and  Ideas  Within  in  Poetry 
— The  Function  of  Intelligence — Influences  and  Ideas  Made  One  by 
an  Exercise  of  Comparison — Association  and  Comparison  at  the 
Basis  of  Words  and  of  the  Forms  of  Language  and  Poetry. 

XIX. 

Representation  in  Art  as  Developed  by  Mental 
Conditions  ;  Considered   Psychologically 
(Continued)      .....     217-228 
Definite  Conceptions  in  Opposition  to  the  Influence  from  Without, 
Lead  to  the  Distinguishing  of  the  One  from  the  Other — Persuasion 
and  Oratory — How  Differing  from  Poetry  and  Fine  Art — In  the 
latter,  the  Influences  from  Without  and  from  the  Ideas  suggest 
Contrast — Rendering  Necessary  an  External  Medium  of  Represen- 
tation— Bearing  of  this  subject  upon  Poetic  Descriptions — Render- 
ing necessary  also  a  Stationary  Medium — Landscape  Gardening — 
Painting — Sculpture,    Representing   less   of    Nature  and  more  of 


xviii  CONTENTS, 

PAGB 

Ideas  within  the  Mind — Therefore  Offering  more  Resistance  to 
the  Motive  from  Without — Architecture  Represents  the  Will,  in 
that  it  is  still  less  Influenced  by  Natural  Forms — In  the  Latter 
Regard  Architecture  Resembles  Music — For  an  Opposite  Reason, 
Poetry,  Painting,  and  Sculpture  are  between  these  Extremes — 
Completeness  of  this  Analysis  of  the  Arts  in  Accordance  with  their 
Development  from  Representative  Effects. 

XX. 

Further  Conditions  Underlying  the  Representa- 
tion OF  Thought  in  Each  of  the  Arts  .  229-243 
Further  Conditions  from  which  to  Draw  Inferences  with  Reference 
to  the  Particular  Form  of  the  Mode  of  Representation — Recapitu- 
lation— Association — Comparison  and  Contrast  as  Related  to  the 
Work  of  Imagination — Audible  Expression  as  Representative  of  the 
Instinctive  Tendency — Development  of  this  in  Music  and  Poetry — 
Visible  Expression  as  Developed  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Archi- 
tecture Representative  of  the  Reflective  Tendency — Methods  in 
Art-Composition  Confirming  these  Statements — Instinctive  and 
Reflective  Tendencies  both  Present  together  in  all  Art  that  is  Emo- 
tive, or  Manifests  Soul — Something  both  of  the  Instinctive  and 
Reflective  must  be  Represented  in  each  Art — Music  as  Subjective, 
Poetry,  Painting,  and  Sculpture  as  Relative,  and  Architecture  as 
Subjective — All  the  Highest  Art  is  both  Subjective  and  Relative, 
i.  <?.,  Objective — Bearing  of  what  has  been  Said  upon  Form  in  each 
Art — Sustained  Sounds  are  Instinctively  Subjective  and  Spontane- 
ous ;  Unsustained  Sounds  are  Instinctively  Relative  and  Responsive 
— Both  Forms  of  Sound  as  Developed  respectively  in  Music  and 
Poetry — No  other  Fundamental  Difference  between  Sounds  in  these 
— Order  and  Relation  of  the  Development  of  these  Forms  of  Sound 
— Same  Principles  Applied  to  the  Arts  of  Sight — Sustained  Action 
is  reflectively  Subjective  and  Spontaneous  ;  Unsustained  Action  is 
reflectively  Relative  and  Responsive — Each  Method  of  Action  as 
Developed  respectively  in  Architecture  and  in  Painting  and  Sculp- 
ture— Analogies  between  Architecture  and  Music — Between  Poetry, 
Painting,  and  Sculpture — Recapitulation  and  Summary — Con- 
clusion. 

Appendix  I,  II,  and  III.        .        .        .       245,  249,  and  261 
Index .     269 


INTRODUCTION.' 

Human  intelligence  is  a  manifestation  of  many  different 
tendencies,  but  all  may  be  resolved  into  three, — those 
having  their  sources  in  the  understanding,  in  the  will, 
and  in  the  emotions;  and  the  departments  in  which 
mainly  the  three  are  respectively  expressed  are  science, 
—  not  philosophy,  for  this  is  a  broader  term,  derived 
from  a  different  principle  of  classification, — religion,  and 
art.  Science,  as  a  development  of  the  understanding, 
begins  in  observation  and  tends  toward  knowledge;  re- 
ligion, as  a  development  of  the  will,  begins  in  conscience 
and  tends  toward  conduct ;  and  art,  as  a  development  of 
the  emotions,  begins  in  imagination  and  tends  toward 
sentiment.  It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  though 
we  can  thus  in  conception  separate  the  three  departments, 
that  there  is  ever  a  time  when  in  practice  they  fail  to  act 
conjointly  or  mutually  to  affect  one  another.  When  we 
examine  some  of  the  oldest  monuments  of  the  world, — 
like  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt, — it  is  difficult  to  tell  the 
results  of  which  of  the  three  we  are  studying.  Mathe- 
maticians and  astronomers  say  of  science;  moralists  and 
theologians,  of  religion;  and  archaeologists  and  artists, 
of  art.  So  with  the  older  civilizations  of  the  world, — 
those  of  Judaea,  Greece,  Rome.  The  physician  or  the 
jurist  traces  in  them  as  many  indications  of  the  science 

'  Being  an  address  delivered  by  invitation  before  the  American  Social 
Science  Association,  on  the  occasion  of  its  establishing,  in  1898,  a  depart- 
ment combining  "  Education  and  Art." 


XX  INTRODUCTION, 

of  the  laws  of  health  or  government  as  the  ritualist  or  the 
rationalist  does  of  the  religions  of  theism  or  stoicism,  or 
as  the  litterateur  or  the  critic  does  of  the  arts  of  poetry 
or  sculpture. 

The  dark  ages  rendered  men  equally  unable  to  carry  on 
scientific  observations,  to  recognize  the  spiritual  claims  of 
a  human  brother,  or  to  reproduce  his  bodily  lineaments. 
When  the  Renaissance  began  to  dawn,  it  is  difficult  to 
determine  from  which  the  sky  first  gathered  redness, — 
from  the  flash  of  Roger  Bacon's  gunpowder,  the  light  of 
Wycliffe's  Bible,  or  the  fire  of  Dante's  hell.  When  it 
was  bright  enough  to  see  clearly,  no  one  knows  which 
was  the  foremost  in  drafting  the  plan  of  progress, — the 
compasses  of  Copernicus,  the  pen  of  Calvin,  or  the  pencil 
of  Raphael.  Even  in  the  same  country,  great  leaders  in 
all  three  departments  always  appear  together, — in  Italy, 
Columbus,  Savonarola,  and  Angelo;  in  Spain,  James  of 
Mallorca,  Loyola,  and  Calderon;  in  France,  Descartes, 
Bossuet,  and  Moliere;  in  Germany,  Humboldt,  Schleier- 
macher,  and  Goethe;  in  England,  Watt,  Wesley,  and 
Reynolds.  In  fact,  the  three  seem  as  inseparably  con- 
nected in  indicating  sovereignty  over  civilization  as  were 
of  old  the  three  prongs  of  the  trident  of  Neptune  in 
indicating  sovereignty  over  the  sea. 

When  things  go  together,  they  usually  belong  together. 
When  they  belong  together,  no  one  of  them  can  be  at  its 
best  without  the  presence  of  the  others.  The  bearing  of 
this  fact  upon  the  subject  before  us  is  sometimes  over- 
looked. There  are  scientists  who  think  that,  when  they 
give  forth  a  word  from  their  department,  they  have  about 
as  much  need  of  re-enforcement  from  the  utterances  of 
religion  as  a  locomotive  engineer  from  the  pipings  of  a 
penny  whistle.     There  are  religionists   who   think  that 


ART  S  RELATIONS   TO   SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION,      xxi 

they  can  get  along  without  the  mathematical  exactness 
of  science  about  as  well  as  the  leader  of  a  processional 
without  a  marionette-show;  while  both  are  inclined  to 
an  impression  that  art  may  actually  interfere  with  their 
success,  as  much  as  a  liveried  footman  with  that  of  a 
country  doctor.  Nevertheless,  art  not  only  furnishes 
important  aids  to  the  full  development  of  the  other 
two,  but  is  even  essential  to  it.  If  neglecting  knowledge, 
toward  which  science  tends,  religion  lacks  intelligence, 
and  art  observation.  If  caring  nothing  for  conduct,  at 
which  religion  aims,  science  lacks  practicality,  and  art 
inspiration.  If  destitute  of  imagination  and  sentiment, 
which  art  cultivates,  science  becomes  divorced  from  phi- 
losophy, and  religion  from  refinement.  It  was  in  the 
dark  ages,  when  they  had  no  art,  that  the  test  of  a  sage 
was  the  ability  to  repeat  by  rote  long,  senseless  incanta- 
tions ;  and  the  test  of  a  saint  was  to  fulfil  the  rule,  scru- 
pulously passed  for  his  guidance  by  the  councils  of  the 
Church,  that  he  should  never  wash  himself. 

But  to  indicate  more  specifically  what  is  meant.  Science 
has  to  do  mainly  with  matter,  religion  with  spirit,  and  art 
with  both;  for  by  matter  we  mean  the  external  world 
and  its  appearances,  which  art  must  represent,  and  by 
spirit  we  mean  the  internal  world  of  thoughts  and  emo- 
tions, which  also  art  must  represent.  The  foundations 
of  art,  therefore,  rest  in  the  realms  both  of  science  and  of 
religion ;  and  its  superstructure  is  the  bridge  between 
them.  Nor  can  you  get  from  the  one  to  the  other,  or 
enjoy  the  whole  of  the  territory  in  which  humanity  was 
made  to  live,  without  using  the  bridge.  Matter  and 
spirit  are  like  water  and  steam.  They  are  separate  in 
reality:  we  join  them  in  conception.  So  with  science 
and  religion,  and  the  conception  which  brings  both  into 


xxil  INTRODUCTION. 

harmonious  union  is  a  normal  development  of  only  art. 

In  unfolding  this  line  of  thought,  it  seems  best  to  show 
how  art  develops  the  powers  of  the  mind, — first,  in  the 
same  direction  as  does  science ;  and,  second,  in  the  same 
as  does  religion, — and,  under  each  head,  so  far  as  pos- 
sible, to  show,  in  addition,  how  art  develops  them  con- 
jointly also  in  both  directions. 

Let  us  begin,  then,  with  the  correspondences  between 
the  educational  influence  of  the  study  of  art  and  of 
science.  The  end  of  science  is  knowledge  with  reference 
mainly  to  the  external  material  world.  We  must  not  for- 
get, however,  that  the  latter  includes  our  material  body, 
with  both  its  muscular  and  nervous  systems.  To  acquire 
a  knowledge  of  the  world,  the  primary  condition,  and 
an  essential  one, — a  condition  important  in  religion,  but 
not  nearly  to  the  same  extent, — is  keenness  of  the  per- 
ceptive powers,  accuracy  of  observation.  No  man  can  be 
an  eminent  botanist,  zoologist,  or  mineralogist,  who  fails 
to  notice,  almost  at  a  first  glance,  and  in  such  a  way  as  to 
be  able  to  recall,  the  forms  and  colors  of  leaves,  bushes, 
limbs,  rocks,  or  crystals.  No  man  can  make  a  discovery 
or  invention,  and  thus  do  that  which  is  chiefly  worth 
doing  in  science,  unless  he  can  perceive,  with  such  reten- 
tion as  to  be  able  to  recall,  series  of  outlines  and  tints, 
and  the  orders  of  their  arrangement  and  sequence.  Now 
can  you  tell  me  any  study  for  the  young  that  will  culti- 
vate accuracy  of  observation,  that  will  begin  to  do  this, 
as  can  be  done  by  setting  them  tasks  in  drawing,  coloring, 
carving,  or,  if  we  apply  the  same  principle  to  the  ear  as 
well  as  to  the  eye,  in  elocution  and  music?  In  order  to 
awaken  a  realization  of  how  little  some  persons  perceive 
in  the  world,  I  used  to  ask  my  classes  how  many  windows 
there   were    in  a  certain  building  that  they  had  passed 


IMPORTANCE   OF  OBSERVATION.  xxill 

hundreds  of  times,  or  how  many  stories  there  were  in 
another  building.  Scarcely  one  in  six  could  answer  cor- 
rectly. Is  it  possible  to  suppose  that  one  could  have 
avoided  noticing  such  things  in  case  his  eyes  had  been 
trained  to  observation  through  the  study  of  drawing,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  effect  of  special  training  in  the  direc- 
tion of  architecture?  Of  course,  there  are  men  born  with 
keen  powers  of  perception,  on  which  everything  at  which 
they  glance  seems  to  be  photographed.  But  the  majority 
are  not  so.  They  have  to  be  trained  to  use  their  eyes  as 
well  as  their  other  organs.  President  Chadbourne,  of 
Williams  College,  at  a  time  when  professor  of  botany  in 
that  institution,  was  once  lost  in  a  fog  on  the  summit  of 
Greylock  Mountain.  It  was  almost  dark ;  but,  in  feeling 
around  among  the  underbrush,  his  hand  struck  some- 
thing. "I  know  where  we  are,"  he  said.  "The  path  is 
about  two  hundred  feet  away  from  here.  There  is  only 
one  place  in  it  from  which  you  see  bushes  like  these." 
I  used  to  take  walks  with  an  old  army  general.  Time 
and  again,  when  we  came  to  a  ravine  or  a  rolling  field,  he 
would  stop  and  point  out  how  he  would  distribute  his 
forces  in  the  neighborhood,  were  there  to  be  a  battle 
there.  These  are  examples  of  the  result  of  cultivating 
powers  of  observation  in  special  directions.  The  advan- 
tage of  art-education,  given  to  the  young,  is  that  it  culti- 
vates the  same  powers  in  all  directions.  While  the 
nature  is  pliable  to  influence,  it  causes  a  habit  of  mind, — 
in  a  broad  sense,  a  scientific  habit,  important  in  every  de- 
partment in  which  men  need  to  have  knowledge.  Not 
only  the  botanist  and  the  soldier,  but  the  teacher,  the 
preacher,  the  lawyer,  the  politician,  the  merchant,  the 
banker,  is  fitted  to  meet  all  the  requirements  of  his  posi- 
tion  in   the   degree    in  which   his   grasp   of   great   and 


XXIV  INTRODUCTION, 

important  matters  does  not  let  slip  the  small  and  appar- 
ently insignificant  details  that  enter  into  them.  Some 
years  ago  a  poor  boy  from  the  country,  hoping  to  obtain 
a  position,  brought  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a  London 
bank;  but  he  found  no  place  vacant.  He  turned  away 
disappointed ;  but,  before  he  had  gone  far,  a  messenger 
overtook  and  recalled  him.  The  proprietors  had  decided 
to  make  a  place  for  him.  Years  afterward,  when  he  had 
become  the  leading  banker  of  London  and  the  Lord  High 
Treasurer  of  the  kingdom,  he  was  told  the  reason  why  he 
had  been  thus  recalled.  As  he  was  leaving  the  bank,  he 
had  noticed  a  pin  on  the  pavement,  and  had  stooped 
down,  picked  it  up,  and  placed  it  in  his  waistcoat.  The 
one  who  saw  that  single  little  act  had  judged,  and  judged 
rightly,  that  he  was  the  sort  of  boy  whose  services  the 
bank  could  not  afford  to  lose. 

Observation  of  this  kind  contributes  to  success,  not 
only  in  the  larger  relations  of  life,  but  still  more,  perhaps, 
in  the  smaller.  What  is  the  germ  of  tact,  courtesy,  and 
kindliness  in  social  and  family  relations?  What  but  the 
observation  of  little  things,  and  of  their  effects?  And 
notice  that  the  observation  of  these  in  one  department 
necessarily  goes  with  the  same  in  other  departments. 
What  is  the  reason  that  a  man  of  aesthetic  culture  is  the 
last  to  come  into  his  home  swearing  like  a  cow-boy, 
cocking  his  hat  over  the  vases  on  the  mantelpiece,  or 
forcing  his  boots  up  into  their  society?  Because  this  sort 
of  manner  is  not  to  his  taste.  Why  not?  Because,  for 
one  reason,  he  has  learned  the  value  of  little  matters  of 
appearance;  and  for  any  man  to  learn  of  them  in  one 
department  is  to  apply  them  in  all  departments.  But,  to 
turn  to  such  things  as  are  especially  cultivated  by  art, 
what  is  it  that  makes  a  room,  when  we  enter  it,  seem 


OBSERVATION   OF  LITTLE    THINGS.  XXV 

cheerful  and  genial?  What  but  the  observation  of  little 
arrangements  that  prevent  lines  from  being  awry  and 
colors  from  being  discordant?  What  is  the  matter  with 
that  woman  whom  we  all  know, — the  woman  who,  when 
on  Sundays  she  is  waved  into  the  pew  in  front  of  us,  makes 
us  half  believe  that  the  minister  has  hired  her  to  flag  the 
line  of  worshippers  behind,  so  as  to  give  them  a  realizing 
sense  that,  even  while  taking  the  name  of  the  Lord  upon 
their  lips,  they  may  be  tempted  to  expressions  appropriate 
only  for  miserable  sinners?  She  gets  into  the  street-car, 
and  we  feel  as  if  we  had  disgraced  ourselves  in  bowing  to 
her.  She  comes  to  our  summer  hotel;  and  the  mere  fact 
of  recognizing  her  involves  our  spending  much  of  the  rest 
of  our  time  in  proving  to  others  the  contradictory  pro- 
position that,  notwithstanding  her  extravagance  in  lend- 
ing lavish  color  to  every  occasion,  she  has  not  yet 
exhausted  all  the  capital  that  keeps  her  from  being  "off- 
color."  But  think  what  it  must  be  to  live  perpetually  in 
the  glare  of  such  sunshine!  Physically,  inharmonious 
hues  produce  a  storm  amid  the  sight-waves,  and  amid  the 
nerves  of  the  eye,  too,  and,  as  all  our  nerves  are  con- 
nected, amid  those  of  thought,  emotion,  digestion.  In 
fact,  the  whole  nervous  system  sails  upon  waves,  just  as 
a  ship  does;  and  storms  may  prove  disagreeable.  It  has 
not  a  slight  bearing,  then,  upon  comfort,  health,  genial- 
ity, and  sanity  to  be  color-blind,  or  -daft,  or  -ignorant. 
It  is  not  of  slight  importance  to  have  children  trained  so 
that  they  shall  realize  that  warm  colors  and  cold  colors, 
though  not  necessarily  inducing  changes  in  temperament, 
may  induce  changes  in  temper;  that  the  cheering  effects 
of  the  room  characterized  by  the  one  are  very  different 
from  the  sombre  effects  produced  by  the  presence  of  the 
other;  that  the  brilliance  of  the  full  hues  echoing  back 


XXVI  INTRODUCTION, 

wit  and  mirth  in  the  hall  of  feasting  might  not  seem 
at  all  harmonious  to  the  mood  in  need  of  rest  and 
slumber. 

Fully  as  important  as  that  which  leads  to  personal  or 
social  advantage  is  that  which  enhances  one's  own  inward 
satisfaction.  It  is  no  less  true  that  our  lives  are  worth  to 
others  exactly  what  they  see  that  we  find  in  the  world, 
than  that  the  world  is  worth  to  us  exactly  what  we  find 
in  it  for  ourselves.  If  this  be  so,  how  important  is  it 
for  us  to  learn  to  observe ! 

One  method  of  learning  this,  as  has  been  said,  is 
through  studying  the  elements  of  art  practically.  Few 
can  study  them  thus,  however,  without  beginning  to 
study  them  theoretically  also;  i.  e.,  without  beginning  to 
take  an  interest  in  the  products  of  the  great  artists  in  all 
departments.  And  here  again,  to  whatever  art  we  look, 
in  the  degree  in  which  a  work  rises  toward  the  highest 
rank,  it  continues  to  train  our  powers  of  observation. 
One  difference  between  the  great  poet,  for  instance,  and 
the  little  poet  is  in  those  single  words  and  phrases  that 
indicate  accuracy  in  the  work  of  ear  or  eye,  or  of  logical 
or  analogical  inference.  Recall  Tennyson's  references 
to  the  "gouty  oak,"  the  "shock-head  willow,"  the  "wet- 
shod  alder."  We  all  admit  that  genius,  especially  literary 
genius,  is  characterized  by  brilliance.  A  brilliant  con- 
centrates at  a  single  point  all  the  light  of  all  the  hori- 
zon, and  from  thence  flashes  it  forth  intensified.  This 
is  precisely  the  way  in  which  a  brilliant  stylist  uses 
form.  In  describing  anything  in  nature,  he  selects 
that  which  is  typical  or  representative  of  the  whole, 
and  often  not  only  of  the  whole  substance  of  a  scene, 
but  even  of  its  atmosphere.  Notice  the  following  from 
Shakespeare : 


ACCC/J^ACV  IN  OBSERVATION.  XXVll 

"  The  battle  fares  like  to  the  morning's  war, 
When  dying  clouds  contend  with  growing  light ; 
What  time  the  shepherd,  blowing  of  his  nails, 
Can  neither  call  it  perfect  day  nor  night." 

3  Henry  VI.,  ii.,  5. 

Observe  what  a  picture  could  be  made  of  this ;  yet  that 
which  most  suggests  it  is  put  into  exactly  four  words, 
blowing  of  his  nails.  The  same  fact  is  true  of  painting  and 
sculpture.  Of  course,  many  factors  enter  into  excellence 
in  these  arts,  and  pre-eminent  success  in  certain  directions 
may  compensate  for  deficiencies  in  other  directions.  But, 
as  a  rule,  the  rank  of  a  picture  or  a  statue  is  determined 
by  the  relative  manifestation  in  it  of  accuracy  in  observ- 
ing and  in  reproducing  the  results  of  observation ;  i.  e. , 
by  the  manifestation  of  imitative  skill  and  of  technical 
facility.  Not  that  all  products  equally  successful  in  these 
are  of  equal  excellence.  Back  of  one  product  there  may 
be  a  spiritual  significance,  a  psychologic  charm  lifting  it 
into  a  sphere  where  are  gathered  only  the  works  of  those 
who  are  the  gods  of  the  artistic  Olympus,  while  back 
of  another  may  be  nothing  suggestive  of  the  possi- 
bility of  what  we  term  artistic  inspiration.  Neverthe- 
less, what  has  been  said  will  be  found  to  be  true.  Art 
always  deals  with  effects  which  nature  presents  to  the  ear 
or  eye,  and  never  survives  the  fashions  of  the  times  in 
which  it  is  produced  except  in  the  degree  in  which  it 
manifests  accuracy  in  the  observation  of  nature.  Music 
survives  in  the  degree  in  which  it  fulfils  laws  founded 
upon  the  observation  of  tones, the  blendings  and  sequences 
of  which  cause  agreeable  effects  upon  the  ear;  architec- 
ture in  the  degree  in  which  it  fulfils  laws  founded  upon 
the  observation  of  shapes  and  outlines,  the  harmonies  and 
proportions  of  which  cause  agreeable  effects  upon  the  eye. 


XXVlll  INTRODUCTION. 

Painting  and  sculpture  fulfil  not  only  the  formative  laws, 
but  reproduce  the  formal  effects  of  outline  and  color; 
and  the  first  condition  of  successful  reproduction  is  accu- 
racy. This  accuracy  is  not  inconsistent  with  leaving  out 
some  features  and  emphasizing  others,  and  presenting  the 
whole  from  different  points  of  view.  But  it  is  inconsistent 
with  distortion  of  any  kind.  Why?  For  the  same  reason 
that,  if  we  wish  a  man  to  see  anything  through  a  field- 
glass,  we  must  adjust  the  glass  exactly  to  the  point  of 
sight.  If  not,  he  sees  mainly  certain  obscuring  effects  of 
the  glass.  Though  meant  to  be  an  agent,  it  has  become 
an  end.  When  we  look  at  a  picture  in  which  the  drawing 
or  coloring  is  defective,  causing  disproportion  in  the  parts, 
unatmospheric  sharpness  of  outline,  absence  of  shadowy 
gradation,  —  above  all,  a  predominating  impression  of 
paint  everywhere, — the  effect  is  exactly  like  that  of  pow- 
der and  rouge  on  a  woman's  face.  It  is  impossible  to  see 
any  soul  through  it.  It  is  impossible  to  look  through  or 
past  the  form.  This,  if  it  do  not  blur  or  blind  the  eye 
to  ulterior  suggestions,  at  least,  appeals  to  it  in  such  a 
way  as  to  be  a  barrier  preventing  them  from  exerting 
their  normal  imaginative  influence.  Therefore,  though, 
viewed  in  this  aspect,  imitative  skill  and  technical  facility 
are  merely  conditions  for  making  possible  the  spiritual 
and  mental  effects  of  art,  viewed  in  another  aspect,  they 
have  more  importance  than  the  word  condition  might 
imply ;  for  they  are  indispensable.  As  most  of  us  know, 
Mr.  Beardsley's  name  is  sometimes  mentioned  by  prom- 
inent and  able  American  critics  with  a  certain  degree  of 
respect,  owing  to  his  manifestation,  as  is  said,  of  original- 
ity and  invention.  One  cannot  refrain  from  feeling  that 
further  reflection  would  cause  these  critics  to  withhold 
anything  in  the  direction  of  actual  commendation.     The 


ART  OF   THE  POSTER.  xxix 

truth  is  that  Mr.  Beardslcy's  work  was  legitimate  neither 
to  decorative  painting  nor  to  figure-painting.  Decorative 
art,  like  architecture,  should  fulfil  certain  mathematical 
laws  controlling  the  intersection  and  curvature,  the  bal- 
ance and  symmetry,  of  lines,  as  well  as  certain  physical 
laws  controlling  concord  and  contrast  of  colors,  intro- 
ducing figures,  if  at  all,  only  in  a  subordinate  way.  These 
principles  of  decorative  art  Mr.  Beardsley's  work  did  not 
fulfil.  Figure-painting,  though  partly  fulfilling  the  same 
principles,  subordinates  them  to  the  reproduction  of 
natural  appearances.  Yet  Mr.  Beardsley  failed  to  repro- 
duce these  appearances  with  accuracy,  showing  either 
that  he  did  not  know  how  to  observe  or  that  he  did  not 
know  how  to  draw,  or,  at  least,  failed  to  manifest  the  re- 
sults of  his  knowledge.  If  this  be  true,  it  follows,  as  a 
corollary  from  what  was  said  a  moment  ago,  that,  just  in 
the  degree  in  which  it  is  true,  his  work  failed  to  be  a 
medium  connecting  the  mind  with  nature,  and  influencing 
it  according  to  the  method  of  nature.  But  what  of  that? 
it  may  be  asked.  Why  not  treat  his  pictures  and  others 
of  the  "Yellow  Book"  and  the  posters  of  the  period — for 
all  manifest  the  same  tendency — as  artistic  jokes  or  cari- 
catures? Why  not?  For  the  very  sufficient  reason  that 
artists  and  critics  insist  upon  our  not  treating  them  so. 
The  style  has  begun  to  influence  serious  work,  and,  by 
consequence,  to  accustom,  not  only  people  in  general, 
but  artists  to  pictures  not  accurately  drawn  and  colored. 
I  have  lately  seen  certain  angels  in  a  stained-glass  win- 
dow by  a  well-known  artist,  capable  of  doing  fine  work. 
They  manifest  their  poster-progeniture  in  limbs  so  de- 
formed, flesh  so  dropsical,  colors  so  diseased,  and  expres- 
sions of  countenance  so  forbidding  that  no  sane  mind 
conceiving  them   to   represent  an   ideal  would  ever — to 


XXX  IN  TROD  UC  TION. 

say  no  more — "want  to  be  an  angel."  Indeed,  if  one 
after  death  were  to  meet  angels  like  them,  however  good 
he  might  be,  he  would  be  sure  to  turn  around,  and  go 
straight  down  hill. 

It  is  a  fact  overlooked  by  many  how  rapidly  art,  owing 
to  its  other  necessarily  imitative  methods,  when  it  once 
begins  to  decline,  continues  to  do  so.  The  sense  of  pro- 
portion in  the  human  face  and  form  was  entirely  lost 
once,  and  recovered  again,  during  the  period  of  the  art 
of  ancient  Egypt.  It  was  lost  in  Europe  all  the  time 
between  the  third  and  thirteenth  centuries.  It  has  been 
lost  many  times  in  China  and  Japan.  In  architecture, 
as  developed  in  Greece,  the  same  sense  was  lost  before 
Rome  was  in  its  prime.  It  continued  lost  till  the  rise  of 
Gothic  architecture.  It  is  lost  again  in  our  own  time. 
The  simplest  principles  of  proportional  perspective,  which 
the  Greek  applied  to  buildings  precisely  as  we  do  to  pic- 
tures, are  not  merely  misapprehended,  but  are  not  con- 
sidered possible  either  of  apprehension  or  of  application 
by  our  foremost  architects.  So  with  color, — from  Apelles 
to  Leonardo  an  almost  constant  decline.  And  think 
what  a  sudden  decline  there  was  after  the  period  of  the 
great  Italian  painters.  And,  mark  you,  these  declines 
were  largely  owing  to  the  inability  of  the  people,  to 
whom  the  art-works  appealed,  to  perceive  the  defects. 
Little  by  little,  they  had  accepted  these,  one  after  the 
other,  because  supposing  them  to  accord  not  necessarily 
with  nature, — for  some  knew  better  than  that, — but  with 
the  conventionalities  of  art.  Just  as  everybody  in  Italy, 
before  the  time  of  Dante,  supposed  that  literature  could 
be  written  only  in  Latin,  though  unintelligible  to  the 
common  people,  so  everybody  in  these  ages  of  decline 
had  come  to  expect,  in  art,  forms  that  were  not  natural, 


CONVENTIONAL  ART.  XXXI 

and  so  far,  for  the  reasons  just  given,  not  intelligible; 
and  all  were  disappointed  if  they  saw  anything  else. 
Suppose  that,  because  the  poster-art  has  commercial 
value,  our  younger  artists  begin  to  imitate  it, — I  mean 
keep  on  imitating  it, — or,  if  not  its  precise  forms,  the 
principles  underlying  them, — what  will  follow?  —  A 
framed  picture  will  begin  to  occupy  exactly  the  same 
position  in  the  eyes  of  the  populace  as  a  dressmaker's 
show-window.  What  is  there  this  year  seems  beautiful. 
What  was  there  five  years  ago  seems  ugly.  Not  because 
either  is  beautiful  or  ugly  intrinsically, — perhaps  I  ought 
to  say  neither  is  beautiful  intrinsically,- — but  because  the 
dressmaker  has  to  make  money.  And  people  call,  and 
most  of  them  think,  the  prevailing  style  beautiful,  merely 
because  it  happens  to  be  current  and  popular.  They  are 
so  constituted  that,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  they 
are  unable  to  resist  the  tide  that,  apparently,  is  bearing 
along  every  one  else.  When  the  same  tendencies  appear 
in  art  it  strikes  me  that  the  critic  who  is  of  value  to  the 
world  is  the  man  who,  in  case  public  opinion  be  setting 
in  the  wrong  direction,  is  able  to  resist  it,  is  able  to  look 
beneath  the  surface,  analyze  the  effects,  detect  the  errors, 
put  together  his  conclusions,  and  have  independence 
enough  to  express  them.  When  the  current  theory  is 
riding  straight  toward  the  brink,  he  is  the  man. who  fore- 
sees the  danger,  screws  down  the  brakes,  and  turns  the 
steeds  the  other  way, — not  the  sentimentalist  irrespon- 
sibly swept  into  folly  by  the  fury  of  the  crowd,  or  the 
demagogue  whooping  its  shibboleth  to  the  echo,  because, 
forsooth,  he  must  be  popular.  The  truth  is  that,  just  so 
far  as  the  tendency  of  the  kind  of  art  of  which  we  are 
speaking  has  its  perfect  work,  just  so  far  there  will  be  no 
necessity  for  accuracy  in  drawing  or  coloring,  and  very 


XXXU  IN  TROD  UCTION. 

little  discipline  afforded  the  powers  of  observation,  while 
trying  either  to  produce  or  to  appreciate  the  completed 
artwork. 

This  last  sentence  suggests  that  we  have  not  quite  done 
yet  with  all  that  can  be  said  of  the  tendency  of  the  study 
of  art  to  cultivate  these  latter  powers.  With  observation 
of  the  external  material  world  must  be  included,  as  has 
been  intimated,  that  of  our  own  material  bodies,  involv- 
ing both  their  muscular  and  nervous  systems,  involving, 
therefore,  so  far  as  developed  from  the  nervous  system, 
especially  through  physical  exercise,  the  mind  and  its 
various  possibilities.  Science  does  much,  of  course, 
toward  bringing  us  to  a  knowledge  of  these  possibilities. 
No  man  can  use  his  eyes,  ears,  memory,  as  science  neces- 
sitates, to  say  nothing  of  his  powers  of  analysis  and 
generalization,  without  learning  a  very  great  deal.  But 
think  how  much  more  he  can  learn,  when  he  is  forced 
into  the  repetitious  and  conscientious  practice  which  is 
always  necessary  before  one  can  acquire  that  skill  which 
is  essential  to  success  in  art. 

Just  here,  in  our  survey  of  art,  we  are  approaching 
the  boundary  line  which  separates  its  relations  to  science 
from  its  relations  to  religion.  Notice  how,  while  a  man 
is  acquiring  skill,  he  is  being  brought  into  the  conditions 
of  life  and  of  method  which  are  necessary  in  order  to  at- 
tain religious  ends.  What  is  the  object  of  religion  except 
through  practice,  in  obedience  to  will  and  conscience,  to 
make  the  mind  supreme  over  matter,  to  make  a  man's 
higher  powers  the  master  of  his  lower  powers,  to  make 
the  body,  as  the  Bible  terms  it,  a  living  temple  for  the 
spirit?  When  we  think  of  it,  we  recognize  that,  while 
science  does  comparatively  little  in  this  direction,  art 
does  an  immense  deal.     The  student  of  art  cannot  keep 


ART  AS  RELATED    TO  RELIGION:  xxxiii 

from  learning  through  personal  experience  how  months 
and  years  of  exercise  in  voice  and  gesture,  in  playing 
music,  in  drawing,  in  painting,  in  carving,  give  one  a 
mastery  over  the  physical  possibilities  of  the  body  not 
only,  but  of  the  mind.  He  is  forced  to  realize  as  others 
cannot  that  there  comes  to  be  a  time  when  every  slightest 
movement  through  which  music,  for  instance,  passes  with 
the  rapidity  of  electricity  frorn  a  printed  score  through 
the  mind  and  fingers  of  a  performer,  is  overseen  and 
directed  by  mental  action  which,  while  intelligent,  works 
unconsciously,  all  the  conscious  powers  of  the  mind  being 
absorbed  in  that  which  is  producing  the  general  expres- 
sional  effect.  The  student  of  art  has  thus  before  him  con- 
stant experimental  evidence  of  the  way  in  which  the  higher 
mental  nature  can  gain  ascendency  over  both  the  lower 
physical  and  the  lower  psychical  nature.  He  knows 
practically  as  well  as  theoretically  in  what  sense  it  can  be 
true  spiritually  that  the  man  who  is  to  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  who  is  to  become  with  all  his  powers 
subject  to  the  spirit  that  is  sovereign  there,  and  who  is, 
without  conscious  effort,  to  embody  in  conduct  its  slight- 
est promptings,  is  the  man  who  consciously  starts  out 
with  scrupulous  and  often  painful  efforts  to  do  the  will  of 
the  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  Thus,  in  this  regard,  the 
study  of  art  completes  the  lesson  learned  from  science; 
and  it  does  so  by  co-ordinating  it  to  the  lesson  learned 
from  religion. 

Now  let  us  unfold  further  the  thought  suggested  in 
what  has  just  been  said.  We  have  been  considering  art- 
education  as  related  to  developing  the  powers  of  observa- 
tion, and  everything  that  enables  the  mind  to  master — as 
is  mainly,  though  not  exclusively,  necessary  in  science — 
that  which  comes  to  it  from  the  material  world  without. 


XXX  iv  IN  TROD  UCTION. 

Let  us  turn  from  this  to  consider  the  same  branch  of 
education  as  related  to  developing  powers  of  reflection ; 
i,  e.y  of  constructive  thinking,  and  the  mastery — which  is 
mainly,  though  not  exclusively,  necessary  in  religion — of 
that  which  comes  from  the  mental  world  within. 

A  man  begins  to  reflect,  to  construct  thought,  when  he 
learns  to  draw  an  inference  as  a  result  of  putting  together 
at  least  two  things.  Of  course,  he  does  this  when  en- 
gaged in  scientific  pursuits.  For  success  in  them,  nothing 
is  more  essential  than  classification ;  and  the  fundamental 
method  of  classification  is  grouping  like  with  like.  But 
notice  to  how  much  greater  extent  a  man  is  obliged  to 
carry  on  this  process  at  the  very  beginning  of  his  work 
in  art.  Art  is  distinctively  a  product  of  imagination,  of 
that  faculty  of  the  mind  which  has  to  do  with  perceiving 
images, — the  image  of  one  thing  in  the  form  of  another. 
While  science,  therefore,  may  find  a  single  form  interest- 
ing in  itself,  art,  at  its  best,  never  does.  It  looks  for 
another  form  with  which  the  first  may  be  compared. 
While  science  may  be  satisfied  with  a  single  fact,  art,  at 
its  best,  never  is.  It  demands  a  parallel  fact  or  fancy, 
of  which  the  first  furnishes  a  suggestion. 

This  imaginative  and  suggestive  character  of  art  does 
not  need  to  be  proved.  We  can  recognize  its  influence 
in  every  artistic  result.  The  movements  of  sound  in 
music  image,  for  the  sake  of  the  beauty  that  may  be  de- 
veloped in  connection  with  the  construction  of  such  an 
image,  the  movements  of  the  voice  in  speaking.  The 
metaphors  and  similes  of  poetry  image  by  way  of  descrip- 
tion the  scenes  of  nature.  Pictures  and  statues  image 
them  on  canvas  or  in  marble ;  and  architecture,  even 
when  devoid  of  sculptural  ornamentation,  is  a  method  of 
working  into  an  image  of  beauty  the  forms  through  which 


IMAGINATION  AS  RELATED    TO   SCIENCE.      XXXV 

the  primitive  savage  proviaes  for  security  and  shelter. 
We  may  say,  therefore,  that  the  very  beginning  of  the 
mental  tendency  that  culminates  in  art  is  a  suggestion  to 
the  imagination  of  a  relationship  existing,  primarily,  be- 
tween forms,  and,  secondarily, — because  both  are  neces- 
sarily connected, — between  methods  or  laws  which  these 
forms  illustrate.  And  how  is  it  with  the  continuation 
and  conclusion  of  this  mental  tendency?  Do  these,  too, 
emphasize,  in  a  way  to  be  of  assistance  to  science,  the 
same  conception  of  a  relationship?  A  moment's  thought 
will  reveal  to  us  that  they  do,  and  that  here,  too,  there- 
fore, as  in  the  former  part  of  this  discussion,  the  study  of 
art  can  be  shown  to  be  of  assistance  to  the  study  of  science 
by  way  both  of  anticipating  its  needs  and  of  completing 
its  results.  Consider,  for  instance,  the  two  directions  in 
which  it  is  important  for  the  scientist  to  notice  relation- 
ships, and  in  connection  with  this  consider  the  respective 
classes  of  studies  which  are  usually  considered  the  best 
for  training  the  mind  to  think  in  these  directions.  The 
directions  are  those  corresponding  to  space  and  time, 
which  are  ordinarily  termed  comprehensiveness  of  think- 
ing and  consecutiveness.  The  studies  supposed  to  de- 
velop thinking  in  these  directions  are  language,  especially 
that  of  the  classics,  and  mathematics.  The  classics, 
requiring  the  student,  as  they  do,  to  observe  several  dif- 
ferent relationships  between  almost  every  word  and  every 
other  word,  as  of  gender,  number,  case,  mood,  voice,  etc., 
are  supposed  to  cultivate  breadth,  or  comprehensiveness, 
of  thinking;  i.  e.,  the  ability  to  consider  things  not  as 
isolated,  but  as  related  to  many  other  things,  and,  in  the 
last  analysis,  to  all  things,  organically.  The  mathematics 
cultivate  consecutiveness  of  thinking;  i.  e.,  the  ability 
to  consider  things  as  related  one  to  another,  logically. 


XXXVl  IN  TROD  UC  TtOM. 

Everybody  admits  the  importance  of  training  the  mental 
powers  in  both  directions.  But  notice,  in  the  first  place, 
how  much  art  has  to  do  with  furnishing  the  possibility 
of  either  form  of  training.  Where  would  have  been  any 
study  whatever  of  the  classics,  had  art  done  nothing  for 
literature?  We  should  have  had  no  laws  of  Latin  and 
Greek  prosody  unless  the  poets  had  written  in  rhythm, 
and  no  laws  of  syntax  unless  philosophers  and  historians, 
as  well  as  poets,  had  been  careful  about  art  in  style. 
Again,  where  would  have  been  our  study  of  mathematics, 
of  the  resulting  effects  upon  one  another  of  lines,  curves, 
or  angles,  or  our  study  of  physical  science  as  determined 
by  such  laws  as  those  of  sound,  or  of  color,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  interest  first  awakened  by  their  aesthetic  effects 
in  architecture,  music,  painting,  or  sculpture?  Whether 
considering  nature  or  art,  men  always  notice  appearances 
before  they  investigate  the  causes  determining  them. 
The  old  Egyptians  were  studying  architecture  when  they 
began  the  investigations  which  built  up  their  system  of 
mathematics.  Pythagoras  was  studying  music  when  he 
began  the  discovery  of  the  laws  of  sound,  and  Leonardo 
and  Chevreul  were  studying  art  when  they  made  their 
contributions  to  the  understanding  of  color;  and,  though 
the  time  has  now  come  when  those  composing  the  ad- 
vancing army  of  science  have  moved  into  every  remotest 
valley  of  the  invaded  country,  apparently  needing  no 
longer  any  leadership  of  the  kind,  they  never  would  have 
begun  their  advance  unless,  like  the  hosts  of  almost  every 
conquering  army,  they  had  at  first  marched  behind  a 
standard  that  in  itself  was  a  thing  of  beauty. 

So  much  for  the  services  of  art  in  anticipating  the  needs 
of  scientific  study.  Now  let  us  notice  how  art  aids  in  com- 
pleting its  results.     When  the  mind  has  attained  all  that 


IMAGINATION  IN  SCIENCE,  xxxvil 

classical  and  mathematical  training  can  give,  when  one  has 
learned  to  relate  organically  and  logically  everything  on 
each  side  of  him  and  in  front  of  him,  what  then?  Where 
does  the  breadth  of  view  cultivated  by  classical  culture 
cease?  Where  does  the  line  of  logic  projected  along  the 
vista  of  mathematical  sequence  end?  I  think  that  you 
will  admit  that  the  one  ceases  and  the  other  ends  where 
it  should,  in  the  degree  in  which  each  attains  to  some- 
thing hitherto  undiscovered  in  the  knowledge  of  facts  or 
in  the  understanding  of  principles.  Now  I  wish  to  show 
that  this  result  follows  only  in  the  degree  in  which  im- 
agination, in  the  form  in  which  it  is  cultivated  in  art, 
works  in  conjunction  with  the  other  powers  of  the  mind. 
There  always  comes  for  the  scientist  a  place  where  ma- 
terial relationships  are  no  longer  perceptible,  a  time  where 
logical  sequences  of  ascertainable  phenomena  end.  He 
finds  the  course  of  his  thought  checked,  whether  he  look 
sidewise  or  forward.  There  is  still  infinity  in  the  one 
direction  and  eternity  in  the  other;  and  the  mind  that 
can  make  discoveries  of  great  truths  and  principles  is,  as 
a  rule,  the  mind  that,  when  it  can  advance  no  longer,  step 
by  step,  can  wing  itself  into  these  unexplored  regions. 
How  can  it  do  this?  Through  imagination.  How  can 
imagination,  when  doing  it,  detect  the  truth?  Ac- 
cording to  a  law  of  being  which  makes  the  mind  of  man 
work  in  harmony  with  the  mind  in  nature,  which  makes 
an  imaginative  surmisal  with  reference  to  material  things 
a  legitimate  product  of  an  intelligent  understanding  of 
them.  This  is  the  law  of  correspondence  or  analogy, 
which  can  often  sweep  a  man's  thoughts  entirely  beyond 
that  which  is  a  justifiable  scientific  continuation  of  the 
impression  received  from  nature.  Only  in  art  is  the  mind 
necessitated  and  habituated  to  recognize  this  law,  which 


XXXVIU  IN  TROD  UCTION, 

fact  may  not  only  suggest  a  reason  why  so  many  success- 
ful inventors  have  started  in  life,  like  Fulton,  Morse,  and 
Bell,  by  making  a  study  of  some  form  of  art;  but  it  may 
almost  justify  a  general  statement  that  no  great  discovery 
is  possible  to  one  whose  mind  is  not  able  to  go  beyond 
that  which  is  ordinarily  done  in  science.  As  a  rule,  be- 
fore an  expert  in  this  can  become  what  we  mean  by  even 
a  philosopher,  not  to  speak  of  a  discoverer,  he  must  pos- 
sess, because  born  with  it  or  trained  to  it,  that  habit  of 
mind  which  leaps  beyond  scientific  conclusions,  in  order 
to  form  imaginative  hypotheses.  It  is  only  after  some 
one  has  made  suppositions,  as  Newton  is  said  to  have 
done,  when  he  saw  the  image  of  gravitation  in  the  falling 
of  an  apple,  that  those  who  adhere  strictly  to  a  scientific 
method  find  work  to  do  in  endeavoring  to  prove  them. 
Nevertheless,  many  scientists  have  a  subtle,  even  a  pro- 
nounced disbelief,  in  that  arrangement  of  nature  in  ac- 
cordance with  which  matter  and  mind,  knowledge  and 
surmisal,  always  move  forward  on  parallel  planes  with  the 
mind  and  its  surmisal  some  distance  ahead.  Their  dis- 
belief IS  owing  to  a  lack  of  imagination,  and  this  is  often 
owing  to  a  lack  of  the  kind  of  culture  which  they  might 
derive  from  giving  attention  to  some  phase  of  art.  And 
yet  the  majority  of  them,  perhaps,  believe  that  art  is  a 
mere  adjunct  to  intellectual  training, — an  ornamental 
adjunct,  too,  introducing,  like  the  carving  on  the  key- 
stone of  an  arch,  what  may  be  interesting  and  pretty,  but 
is  not  essentially  useful.  This  is  a  mistake.  In  impor- 
tant particulars,  it  may  be  said  that  art  is  not  the  carving 
on  the  keystone,  but  the  keystone  itself,  without  which 
the  whole  arch  would  tumble. 

It  will  be  noticed  now  that  we  are  approaching  the 
place  at  which,  in  a  far  more  important  sense  than  has 


ART'S  AID    TO  RELIGION,  XXxix 

yet  been  developed,  art  may  be  said,  in  accordance  with 
what  was  affirmed  at  the  opening  of  this  paper,  to  spring 
the  bridge  across  the  gulf  that  separates  religion  from 
science.  The  mind  is  never  strictly  within  the  realm  of 
science  when  it  is  arriving  at  conclusions  otherwise  than 
through  methods  dealing  with  material  relationships. 
Nothing  is  scientifically  true,  unless  it  can  be  shown  to 
be  fulfilled  in  fact;  i.  e.,  in  conditions  and  results  per- 
ceptible in  ascertainable  phenomena.  The  moment  that 
thought  transcends  the  sphere  possible  to  knowledge,  it 
gets  out  of  the  sphere  of  science.  But,  when  it  gets  out 
of  this,  what  sphere,  so  long  as  it  continues  to  advance 
rationally,  does  it  enter?  What  sphere  but  that  of  re- 
ligion? And  think  how  large  a  part  of  human  experi- 
ence— experience  which  is  not  a  result  of  what  can  strictly 
be  termed  knowledge  —  is  contained  in  this  sphere ! 
Where  but  in  it  can  we  find  the  impulses  of  conscience, 
the  dictates  of  duty,  the  cravings  for  sympathy,  the 
aspirations  for  excellence,  the  pursuit  of  ideals,  the  sense 
of  unworthiness,  the  desire  for  holiness,  the  feeling  of 
dependence  upon  a  higher  power,  and  all  these  together, 
exercised  in  that  which  causes  men  to  walk  by  faith,  and 
not  by  knowledge?  The  sphere  certainly  exists.  Grant- 
ing the  fact,  let  us  ask  what  it  is  that  can  connect  with 
this  sphere  of  faith  the  sphere  of  knowledge?  Has  any 
method  yet  been  found  of  conducting  thought  from  the 
material  to  the  spiritual  according  to  any  process  strictly 
scientific?  Most  certainly  not.  There  comes  a  place 
where  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed  between  the  two.  Now 
notice  that  the  one  who  leads  the  conceptions  of  men 
across  this  gulf  must,  like  the  great  Master,  never  speak 
to  them  without  a  parable, — i.  e.y  a  parallel,  an  analogy, 
a  correspondence,  a  comparison.     Did  you  ever  think  of 


xl  INTRODUCTION. 

the  fact  that,  scientifically  interpreted,  it  is  not  true  that 
God  is  a  father,  or  Christ  a  son  of  God,  or  an  elder 
brother  of  Christians,  or  the  latter  children  of  Abraham  ? 
These  are  merely  forms  taken  from  earthly  relationships, 
in  order  to  image  spiritual  relationships,  which,  except  in 
imagination,  could  not  in  any  way  become  conceivable. 
This  method  of  conceiving  of  conditions,  which  may  be 
great  realities  in  the  mental,  ideal,  spiritual  realm,  through 
the  representation  of  them  in  material  form,  is  one  of  the 
very  first  conditions  of  a  religious  conception.  But  what 
is  the  method?  It  is  the  artistic  method.  Without  using 
it  in  part,  at  least,  science  stops  at  the  brink  of  the  ma- 
terial with  no  means  of  going  farther,  and  religion  begins 
at  the  brink  of  the  spiritual  with  no  means  of  finding  any 
other  starting-point.  Art  differs  from  both  science  and 
religion  in  finding  its  aim  in  sentiment  instead  of  know- 
ledge, as  in  the  one,  and  of  conduct,  as  in  the  other.  But 
notice,  in  addition  to  what  has  been  said  of  its  being  an 
aid  to  science,  what  an  aid  to  religion  is  the  artistic  habit 
of  looking  upon  every  form  in  this  material  world  as  full 
of  analogies  and  correspondences,  inspiring  conceptions 
and  ideals  spiritual  in  their  nature,  which  need  only  the 
impulse  of  conscience  to  direct  them  into  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  spiritual  in  conduct.  This  habit  of  mind  is 
what  art,  when  legitimately  developed,  always  produces. 
It  not  only  necessitates,  as  applied  to  mere  form, — and 
in  this  it  differs  from  religion  and  resembles  science, — 
great  accuracy  in  observation,  but  also,  as  applied  to  that 
which  the  form  images, —  and  in  this  it  differs  from 
science  and  resembles  religion, — it  necessitates  the  most 
exact  and  minute  fulfilment  of  the  laws  of  analogy  and 
correspondence.  These  laws,  which,  because  difificult 
and  sometimes  impossible  to  detect,  some  imagine  not  to 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE  IN  ART.  xH 

exist,  nevertheless  do  exist ;  and  they  give,  not  only  to 
general  effects,  but  to  every  minutest  different  element 
of  tone,  cadence,  line,  and  color,  a  different  and  definite 
meaning,  though  often  greatly  modified,  of  course,  when 
differently  combined  with  other  elements. 

This  fact  is  exemplified  in  all  the  arts;  and  it  is  that 
which  makes  an  art-product,  as  distinguished  from  a 
scientific,  a  combined  effect  of  both  form  and  significance, 
— of  form,  inasmuch  as  it  fulfils  certain  physical  laws,  as  of 
harmony  or  proportion,  which  make  the  effect  agreeable 
or  attractive  to  the  physical  ears  or  eyes ;  and  of  signifi- 
cance, inasmuch  as  it  fulfils  certain  psychical  laws,  as  of 
association  or  adaptability,  which  cause  it  to  symbolize 
some  particular  thought  or  emotion.  If,  for  instance, 
we  ask  an  artist  why  he  has  drawn  a  figure  gesturing  with 
the  palm  up  instead  of  down,  he  cannot  say,  if  giving  a 
correct  answer,  that  he  has  done  it  for  the  sake  merely  of 
the  form,  in  case  he  means  to  use  this  word  in  its  legiti- 
mate sense  as  a  derivation  of  the  old  Latin  word  forma, 
an  appearance.  The  one  gesture,  if  as  well  made,  may 
appear  as  well  as  the  other.  The  difference  between  the 
two  is  wholly  a  difference  of  significance.  This  differ- 
ence, moreover,  is  artistic.  For  merely  scientific  purposes 
the  one  gesture,  in  such  a  case,  might  be  as  satisfactory 
as  the  other. 

That  form  in  art  as  contrasted  with  form  in  science  is 
suggestive  in  the  sense  just  explained,  we  all,  to  a  certain 
extent,  recognize.  When,  in  music  or  poetry,  we  are 
discussing  the  laws  of  rhythm,  harmony,  or  versification, 
we  are  talking,  as  the  very  titles  ot  most  books  written 
upon  these  topics  indicate,  about  the  science  of  these 
subjects.  When  we  are  discussing  the  influence  upon 
thought  or  emotion  of  consecutive  or  conflicting  themes  or 


xlii  IN  TROD  UCTION. 

scenes  in  an  opera  of  Wagner  or  a  drama  of  Shakespeare, 
we  are  talking  about  that  which,  though  partly  condi- 
tioned upon  the  laws  of  science,  nevertheless  transcends 
its  possibilities.  No  matter  how  perfect  rhythm  or 
rhyme  one  may  produce  through  arrangements  of  words, 
the  result  is  prose,  not  poetry,  unless  the  thought,  in- 
stead of  being  presented  directly,  is  represented,  as  we 
may  say,  indirectly,  so  as  to  cause  it  to  afford  virtually 
an  argument  from  analogy.  Frequently,  one  judges  of 
poetic  excellence  by  the  degree  in  which  the  thoughts  or 
emotions  could  not  be  communicated  at  all  unless  they 
were  thus  suggested  rather  than  stated ;  by  the  degree, 
therefore,  in  which  their  essential  character  is  subtle,  in- 
tangible, invisible, — in  short,  spiritual.  The  same  is  true 
of  sculpture,  architecture,  and  painting,  though  the  fact 
is  not  equally  acknowledged  in  each  of  these  arts.  No 
one  thinks  of  not  judging  of  a  statue  by  its  significance  for 
the  mind — i,  e.,  by  the  subject  represented  in  its  pose, 
gestures,  and  facial  expression — fully  as  much  as  by  the 
mathematics  of  its  proportions  or  the  technical  skill  of  its 
chiselling.  Large  numbers  of  persons  judge  of  a  building 
in  a  similar  way,  considering  the  embodiment  of  the  men- 
tal conception  in  the  general  arrangements  and  appear- 
ances causing  them  to  be  representative  of  the  plan  of 
the  whole,  or  illustrative  of  special  contrivances  of  con- 
struction in  the  parts,  to  be  fully  as  important  as  the 
character  of  the  material  or  even  the  proportion  and 
harmony  of  the  outlines.  But,  when  we  come  to  pictures, 
although  apparently  the  rest  of  the  world,  aside  from 
those  who  are  in  art-circles,  accept  without  question  the 
view  that  has  just  been  presented,  we  find  that  many 
painters  and  many  critics  influenced  by  them  deny  the 
importance  of  considering  mental  and  spiritual  signifi- 


SIGNIFICANCE  IN  PAINTING,  xliii 

cance  as  distinguished  from  that  which  has  to  do  with 
the  appeal  of  the  form  to  the  eye.  Of  course,  if  they 
deny  this,  we  are  obliged  to  infer  from  what  has  been 
said  already  that  they  do  so  because,  in  some  degree, 
they  fail  to  perceive  that  art  involves  that  which  tran- 
scends the  possibilities  of  science.  If,  with  this  sugges- 
tion as  a  clew,  we  examine  the  facts,  we  shall  find  that 
those  of  whom  we  are  speaking  are  apt  to  be  colorists, 
not  draughtsmen.  Of  late  years  the  development  of 
coloring  has  necessarily  proceeded  on  scientific  lines. 
This  fact,  in  connection  with  the  fact  that  color  in  nature 
is  not  fixed,  but  changes  with  every  shifting  of  the  sun, 
may  furnish  one  reason  why  certain  students  of  color 
hold  to  the  view  that  in  art  as  in  science  the  meaning 
that  a  form  conveys  by  way  of  exercising  definite  control 
over  the  imagination  need  not  be  specially  considered. 

But  beyond  this  reason  there  seems  to  be  another. 
It  may  be  suggested  by  the  following :  a  friend  of  mine, 
who  sent  his  son  to  a  school  in  England,  told  me  that  the 
boy  came  back  a  *'  perfect  fool."  To  restore  a  rational 
action  of  mind,  it  became  necessary  to  resort  to  argu- 
ment. "What  do  you  roll  so  for,  when  you  walk?  Are 
you  drunk?  What  do  you  stick  out  your  elbows  so  for? 
Are  your  arm-pits  chapped?  Do  you  think  yourself 
drowning  every  time  you  try  to  shake  hands?  "  "Oh," 
said  the  boy,  "you  Americans  have  n't  any  way  of  letting 
people  know  that  you  have  been  in  good  society."  This 
answer  may  give  us  a  hint  of  one  reason  why  the  opinion 
of  common  people  is  not  always  accepted  by  those  who 
wish  to  be  thought  uncommon.  Thus  put,  it  may  seem 
an  unworthy  reason,  not  consistent  with  earnestness  and 
sincerity.  Yet  such  an  inference  would  scarcely  be  justi- 
fied.    The  fact  that  people  ordinarily  judge  of  a  picture 


xliv  INTRODUCTION. 

by  its  significance  is  a  proof  that  the  ordinary  picture  has 
significance.  But  the  artist  does  not  wish  to  produce  an 
ordinary  picture.  So,  he  says:  ''The  kind  of  picture 
that  I  produce  need  not  have  significance."  His  motive 
is  praiseworthy.  He  wishes  to  attain  distinction.  But, 
intellectually,  he  starts  with  an  erroneous  premise ;  and 
this,  of  course,  leads  him  to  an  erroneous  conclusion.  It 
is  not  significance  that  makes  a  picture  ordinary :  this 
merely  makes  it  a  picture  rather  than  a  product  of  deco- 
rative art.  That  which  makes  it  ordinary  is  the  form  in 
which  the  significance  is  presented.  To  change  a  theo- 
logical essay  into  a  "Paradise  Lost,"  it  would  not  be 
necessary  to  drop  the  significance :  that  could  be  kept ; 
but  it  would  be  necessary  to  change  the  form. 

We  may  be  sure  that  any  theory  true  as  applied  to  one 
art  is  in  analogy  to  that  which  is  true  of  every  other  art 
of  the  same  class;  and  I,  for  one,  refuse  to  take  from  the 
art  of  painting  its  right  to  be  classed  among  the  other 
higher  arts.  It  is  on  account  of  the  distinctive  appeal, 
beyond  that  which  can  be  made  by  decorative  art,  which 
painting  can  make  through  significance  to  the  human 
mind  that  it  has  a  right  to  be  classed  with  the  humanities. 
Some  time  ago  I  heard  a  story  intended  to  represent  the 
effect  that  should  be  produced  by  this  art.  It  was  said 
that  some  one,  in  a  French  gallery,  noticed  two  painters 
approach  a  picture,  and  heard  them  discuss  the  coloring 
of  some  fowls.  After  about  ten  minutes  they  turned 
away;  and,  just  as  they  were  doing  so,  one  of  them  said 
to  the  other:  "By  the  way,  what  was  that  picture  about? 
Did  you  notice?"  "No,"  said  the  other.  Now,  while 
this  illustrates  the  kind  of  interest  which  not  only  the 
painter,  but  the  artist  in  any  art, — music,  poetry,  sculp- 
ture, or  architecture, — necessarily  comes  to  have  in  thq 


SIGNIFICANCE  IN  PAINTING.  xlv 

technique  of  his  specialty,  it  does  not  illustrate  all  the 
interest  which  one  should  have  who  has  a  true  conception 
of  what  art  can  do  for  people  in  general.  It  does  not 
illustrate  the  sort  of  interest  that  Angelo,  Raphael,  or 
Murillo  had  in  their  productions.  A  musician  or  poet 
who  should  have  no  higher  conception  of  the  ends  of  art 
would  produce  nothing  but  jingle.  In  this  the  laws  of 
rhythm  and  harmony  can  be  fulfilled  as  perfectly  as  in 
the  most  inspired  and  sublime  composition.  Do  I  mean 
to  say,  therefore,  that  every  artist,  when  composing, 
must  consciously  think  of  significance  and  also  of  form? 
Not  necessarily.  Many  a  child  unconsciously  gestures  in 
a  form  exactly  indicative  of  his  meaning.  But  often, 
owing  to  acquired  inflexibility  or  unnaturalness,  the  same 
person,  when  grown,  unconsciously  gestures  in  a  form  not 
indicative  of  his  meaning.  What  then?  If  he  wish  to  be 
an  actor,  he  must  study  the  art  of  gesture,  and  for  a  time, 
at  least,  must  produce  the  right  gestures  consciously. 
And  besides  this,  whether  he  produce  them  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  in  the  degree  in  which  he  is  an  artist  in 
the  best  sense,  he  will  know  what  form  he  is  using,  and 
why  he  is  using  it.  The  fact  is  that  the  human  mind  is 
incapable  of  taking  in  any  form  without  being  informed 
of  something  by  it ;  and  it  is  the  business  of  intelligent, 
not  to  say  honest,  art  to  see  to  it  that  the  information 
conveyed  is  not  false,  that  the  thing  made  corresponds  to 
the  thing  meant.  Otherwise,  we  all  know  or  ought  to 
know  the  result.  Who  has  not  had  experience  of  it?  I 
have  seen  college  dormitories  meant  to  be  comfortable 
and  healthy,  but  so  planned  that  not  a  ray  of  sunshine 
could  get  into  more  than  half  of  their  study  rooms; 
libraries  meant  to  read  in,  but  with  windows  filled  with 
stained  glass  that  would  injure  the  eyes  of  every  one  who 


xlvi  INTRODUCTION, 

attempted  to  read  in  them;  auditoriums  meant  to  see 
and  hear  in,  yet  crowded  with  stone  pillars  preventing 
large  numbers  from  doing  either,  or  filled  with  rectangular 
seats  crowded  together  so  that  no  one  could  even  remain 
in  the  place  with  comfort.  These  were  results  of  paying 
attention  to  form,  and  not  to  significance,  or  that  for 
which  the  form  is  intended.  Analogous  effects  are  just 
as  unfortunate  in  painting.  I  have  been  in  court-rooms, 
supposed  to  be  decorated  for  the  purpose — for  this  is  all 
that  decoration  of  the  kind  is  worth — of  producing  upon 
those  entering  them  an  impression  of  justice;  but  the 
only  possible  impression  that  could  be  produced  was  that 
the  halls  were  to  be  devoted  to  perpetual  investigations 
into  the  mysteries  of  orgies  not  conducted  according  to 
the  conventions  of  Puritanic  propriety: — women  who 
ought  to  have  been  in  a  warmer  place,  and  whom  it  was 
impossible  to  conceive  of  as  winged  creatures,  doomed  to 
eternal  roosting  upon  the  cornice  against  the  domed  ceil- 
ing. And  what  inspiration  there  might  have  been  for 
the  common  people,  accustomed  to  gather  there,  had  the 
walls  been  filled  with  representations  of  great  acts  of  jus- 
tice and  humanity  with  which  the  pages  of  history  of 
almost  every  age  and  country  are  crowded !  Granted 
that  some  paintings  like  this  are  flamboyantly  panoramic. 
A  great  painter  can  make  them  something  else;  and 
historic  paintings  in  themselves  are  as  legitimate  as 
historic  dramas.  Granted  that  the  literary  tendency  in 
painting  is  sometimes  misleading,  though  not  so  mislead- 
ing as  the  deductions  which  artists  and  critics  without 
ability  to  think  have  drawn  from  the  fact.  The  paintings 
of  which  I  speak  now  need  not  be  literary  in  any  sense 
that  makes  them  inartistic.  Indeed,  a  very  important 
element  in  the  suggestion  made,  that  which  allies  it  to 


SIGNIFICANCE  IN  PAINTING.  xlvii 

what  has  just  been  said  of  architecture,  is  the  fact  that 
every  elementary  line  or  color  before  as  well  as  after 
being  combined  into  the  general  effect  of  a  picture  has  in 
nature,  owing  to  its  predominating  uses  and  associations, 
a  meaning  appropriate  to  itself ;  and  an  artist  who  does 
not  recognize  that  this  is  the  case,  no  matter  how  well  he 
understands  the  science  of  line  and  color,  fails.  "What 
kind  of  a  painter  is  he?"  I  asked  the  other  day  of  an 
artist-friend,  mentioning  at  the  same  time  the  name  of 
one  of  whom  all  of  us  probably  know.  "Why,"  replied 
the  artist,  "he  is  what  I  call  a  vulgar  painter."  "Are 
you  getting  ethical  in  your  tastes?"  I  said.  "Not  that," 
he  answered,  "but  don't  you  remember  that  picture  of  a 
little  girl  by  Sargent  in  the  National  Academy  Exhibition 
last  year?  You  could  n't  glance  at  it,  in  the  most  super- 
ficial way,  without  recognizing  at  once  that  it  was  a  child 
of  high-toned,  probably  intellectual,  spiritually-minded, 
aristocratic  parentage  and  surroundings.  Now,  if  this 
man  had  painted  that  child,  he  could  not  have  kept  from 
making  her  look  like  a  coarse-haired,  hide-skinned  peas- 
ant." It  is  easy  to  perceive  that,  if  this  criticism  were 
justifiable, — and  the  one,  at  least,  who  made  it  must  have 
thought  that  it  was, — the  fault  would  lie  back  of  any 
scientific  knowledge  of  color  or  any  technical  facility  in 
the  use  of  it.  It  would  lie  in  the  fact  that  the  artist  had 
never  learned  that  the  round,  ruddy  form  of  the  vital 
temperament  that  blossoms  amid  the  breeze  and  sunshine 
of  the  open  field  has  a  very  different  significance  from  the 
more  complex  and  delicate  curves  and  colors  that  appear 
where  the  nervous  temperament  is  trained  up  behind  the 
sheltering  window-panes  of  the  study.  An  artist  who 
believes  in  significance  merely  enough  to  recognize  the 
necessity  of  representing  it  in  some  way  can,  with  a  very 


xl  viii  IN  TROD  UCTION. 

few  thrusts  of  his  knife,  to  say  nothing  of  his  brush,  at  one 
and  the  same  time  relieve  the  inflammation  of  chapped 
cheeks,  and  inject  into  the  veins  some  of  the  blue  blood 
of  aristocracy. 

As  intimated  a  moment  ago,  those  who  claim  that  the 
highest  quality  of  art  can  be  produced  without  regard  to 
significance  are  conceiving  of  art  as  if  it  involved  exclus- 
ively that  which  is  in  the  domain  of  science.  Yes,  it  may 
be  answered ;  but  are  not  those  who  insist  upon  the  re- 
quirement of  significance,  especially  significance  of  an 
elevated  character,  conceiving  of  art  as  involving  that 
which  is  in  the  domain  of  religion?  Certainly  they  are, 
yet  not  as  involving  this  exclusively.  Art  includes  some- 
thing that  pertains  to  the  domain  of  science,  and  also 
something  that  pertains  to  the  domain  of  religion.  When 
an  artist  depicts  nature  just  as  it  is,  if  there  be  any  such 
thing  as  natural  religion,  he  produces  upon  the  mind 
something  of  the  effect  of  natural  religion.  If  he  depict 
humanity,  he  produces  —  if  there  be  any  such  thing — 
something  of  the  sympathetic  effect  of  social  religion. 
And  in  both  cases  he  adds  to  the  effect  the  influence 
which  each  has  had  upon  his  own  character,  and  pro- 
duces, if  he  have  any,  something  of  the  effect  of  personal 
religion.  Art  combines  the  influences  of  God  in  nature, 
God  in  humanity,  and  God  in  the  individual.  It  makes 
an  appeal  that  is  natural,  sympathetic,  and  personal ;  but 
it  does  all  this  in  a  way  that  seems  divine,  because  the 
factors  of  representation  are  reproductions  of  the  divine 
handiwork.  As  applied  to  literature,  for  instance,  it  is  a 
fact  that,  when  spiritual  discernment  and  brotherly  charity 
that  judge  by  faith  that  is  deeper  than  creeds,  and  by 
motives  that  lie  nearer  to  the  heart  than  actions,  fulfil 
their  missions  of  guidance  and  enlightenment  for  their 


RELIGIOUS  INFLUENCE   OF  ART.  xlix 

age,  the  very  same  ideas  which,  if  stated  in  plain  prose, 
would  send  their  writer  to  ostracism  or  the  stake,  are  ac- 
cepted and  approved,  if,  through  the  suggestive  methods 
of  art,  they  are  represented  in  what  may  be  called  the 
divine  terms  of  nature.  What  would  have  become  of 
Dante,  in  his  age,  if  he  had  proclaimed  that  a  pope  could 
be  kept  in  hell  or  a  pagan  be  welcomed  in  Paradise? 
Yet,  when  he  pictured  both  conditions  in  his  great  poem, 
how  many  persecuted  him  merely  because  of  that?  We 
may  apply  the  same  principle  to  any  form  of  literary  art. 
It  is  less  the  influence  of  the  pulpit  than  of  the  novel  that 
in  our  own  land,  within  the  memory  of  some  still  living, 
has  not  only  freed  the  slave  and  unfrocked  the  aristocrat, 
but  has  snatched  the  standards  of  sectarianism  from  the 
hands  of  hypocrites  and  bigots,  and  restored  for  all  the 
Church  the  one  standard  of  Constantine,  and  that  one 
not  held  up  by  the  hands  of  man,  but  flaming  in  the  sky. 
So  with  the  other  arts.  Even  in  the  rhythm  and  harmony 
of  music,  though  representing  laws  almost  too  subtle 
for  our  comprehension,  there  is  something  that  tends 
to  make  throb  in  unison  not  only  every  pulse,  but 
every  protoplasmic  fibre  whose  deep  roots  are  the  soul. 
Under  the  pediment  of  the  temple,  the  arches  of  the 
cathedral,  the  dome  of  the  mosque,  always,  too,  in  the 
degree  in  which  these  are  great  works  of  art,  the  pre- 
dominating impression  is  that  of  the  universal  fatherhood 
of  God,  which  all  alike  represent.  Nor  is  there  a  statue 
or  a  painting  which  depicts  natural  life,  especially  human 
life,  as  we  are  accustomed  in  our  own  day  to  see  it, — 
yet  notice  that  this  argument  could  not  apply,  even  re- 
motely, to  anything  approaching  deformity  or  vulgarity, 
—  but  every  curve  or  color  in  it  seems  to  frame  at  times 
the   soul  of  one  to  be  loved,  not   by   another,  but  by 


1  INTRODUCTION, 

ourselves;  and,  so  far  as  Providence  sends  spiritual  de- 
velopment through  imparting  a  sense  of  sympathy  with 
friend,  brother,  sister,  father,  mother,  wife,  or  child,  there, 
in  the  presence  of  art,  that  development  for  a  while  is 
experienced. 

In  fact,  in  every  department  of  art,  if  only  our  powers 
of  apprehension  were  sufficiently  subtle,  such  influences 
might  be  perceived  in  the  aspects  of  great  natural  forces 
streaming  up  from  the  surface  of  the  globe  through  the 
senses  of  those  inhabiting  it,  and  radiating  into  a  spiritual 
halo  stretching  starward  above  every  realm  and  age  that 
the  world  whirls  into  sight,  as  it  goes  spinning  onward. 

But  enough.  The  conception  suggesting  this  paper 
has  been  sufficiently  unfolded,  if  it  have  been  made  clear 
in  what  sense  it  is  true  that  aesthetic  studies,  among  which 
one  may  include  anything  that  has  to  do  with  elocution, 
poetry,  music,  drawing,  painting,  modelling,  building,  or 
furnishing,  whether  we  consider  their  influence  upon  the 
artist  or  upon  the  patron  of  art,  are  needed,  in  order  to 
connect  and  complete  the  results  of  education  as  de- 
veloped through  science  alone  or  through  religion  alone. 
These  studies  can  do  for  our  minds  what  science  cannot, 
crowning  its  work  with  the  halo  of  imagination  and  light- 
ing its  path  to  discovery.  They  can  do  for  us  what  relig- 
ion cannot,  grounding  its  conceptions  upon  accuracy  of 
observation  and  keeping  them  true  to  facts.  Art  unites 
the  separated  intellectual  influences  of  the  two  other 
spheres.  It  can  not  only  hold  the  mirror  up  to  nature,  but 
it  can  make  all  nature  a  mirror,  and  hold  it  up  to  the 
heavens.  In  times  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  storm  and 
stress,  when  night  is  above  and  waves  below  and  winds 
behind  and  breakers  ahead,  the  voice  of  art  can  sometimes 
speak   peace  to  conflicting  elements,  and  bring  a  great 


SCIENCE,  RELIGION,   AND  ART,  li 

calm ;  and  then,  in  the  blue  at  our  feet,  we  can  see  not 
only  a  little  of  the  beauty  of  a  little  of  the  surface  of  the 
little  star  in  which  we  live,  but  something  also  of  the 
grandeur  of  all  the  stars  of  all  the  universe. 


ART  IN  THEORY. 


CHAPTER   I. 

NATURE  AND   ART. 

Art  a  Method — Artlessness  and  Art  Illustrated — Differing  not  as  Originality 
from  Imitation — Nor  as  the  Natural  from  the  Unnatural — But  as  an 
Immediate  Expression  of  Nature  from  Mediate  or  Represented  Ex- 
pression, Art  being  Nature  Made  Human  or  Nature  Re-made  by  Man 
— Definitions  of  Nature,  Human,  and  Re-made — This  Definition  of  Art 
Applicable  Universally — Art-Products,  not  Creations,  but  Reproduc- 
tions of  Nature — And  also  Results  of  Design  which  is  Distinctively 
Human — Known  to  be  Art  in  the  Degree  in  which  both  Natural  and 
Human  Elements  in  them  are  Recognizable — Conclusion. 

'X  A  7  HEN  we  say  that  a  man  has  an  art  or  the  art  of 
producing  effects  of  any  kind,  we  mean  that  his 
words  or  deeds  manifest  a  certain  method.  Works  of 
art  are  products  revealing  this  method.  They  may  not 
reveal  it  to  a  first  glance  ;  they  must  to  careful  inspection. 
Otherwise  none  could  distinguish  them  from  other  works 
and  designate  them  by  a  special  term. 

What  is  this  method  ?  A  child  talks  to  us  with  grace 
in  her  movements  and  sweetness  in  her  voice,  and  we 
admire  what  we  term  her  artlessness.  A  grown  woman, 
an  actress,  perhaps,  produces  almost  identical  effects  that 
seem  equally  pleasing,  but  what  we  admire  in  her  we 
term  her  art.     What  is  the  difference  between  an  absence 


2  ART  IN   THEORY. 

of  art  and  a  presence  of  art,  as  indicated  in  these  two 
cases? 

We  cannot  fully  answer  this  question  by  saying  merely 
that  the  child's  actions  appear  to  be  spontaneous  or  origi- 
nal, and  that  the  woman's  appear  to  be  imitated  ;  though, 
of  course,  there  is  often  a  sense  in  which  this  statement 
is  true.  But  the  very  actions  of  the  child  which  the 
grown  person  imitates,  may  themselves  be  imitative.  A 
large  part  of  all  children's  actions  are  so.  The  actress,  in 
repeating  them,  does  not  necessarily  change  them  from 
the  non-imitative  to  the  imitative.  What  she  does  that 
is  different  from  the  action  of  the  child,  is  to  produce  her 
imitations  according  to  a  different  method. 

Nor  can  we  answer  the  question  by  saying  that  the 
child's  actions  are  natural  and  the  woman's  unnatural ; 
though  here  again,  inasmuch  as  the  woman  is  not  acting 
as  we  naturally  expect  a  woman  to  act,  there  is  a  sense 
in  which  this  statement  is  true.  But  if  her  actions 
be  absolutely  unnatural  we  fail  to  admire  them.  That 
which  pleases  us  in  them  is  the  very  fact  that  they  are 
not  this,  but,  on  the  contrary,  are  similar  in  form  to  those 
of  nature.  Yet  we  term  the  result  art  because  we  recog- 
nize that  it  is  produced  not  according  to  the  method  of 
nature — in  this  case,  of  a  child's  nature, — but  according 
to  a  different  method. 

In  what  now  consists  this  difference  in  method  ?  Is  it 
not  in  this?  The  child's  words  and  deeds,  like  the  bleat- 
ing and  gambolling  of  the  lamb,  seem  to  be  immediate 
expressions  of  nature,  or  of  what,  in  this  case,  we  may 
term  natural  instinct.  But  we  know  that  a  mature 
woman's  natural  instincts  would  never  prompt  her  to 
express  herself  in  the  child's  way ;  and  that  therefore 
her  childish  words  and  deeds,  while  expressions  natural 


NATURE   AND  ART.  3 

enough  to  a  very  young  person,  are  not  so  to  one  of  her 
age.  They  are  expressions,  therefore,  of  something  which 
nature  has  presented  to  her,  and  which  she,  according  to 
a  process  which,  as  distinguished  from  instinctivey  we  may 
call  mental^  re-presents  to  us.  As  the  result,  which  we 
term  art,  is  a  combination  of  what  comes,  in  the  first 
place,  from  nature  or  natural  instinct^  and,  in  the  second 
place,  from  a  human  being  exercising  the  distinctive  traits 
of  the  human  mind,  we  may  say  that,  in  this  case  at  least, 
art  is  nature  made  humane  or  nature  re-made  by  the  human 
mind.  The  term  nattire,  as  used  thus,  may  apply  to 
every  effect,  aside  from  the  supernatural,  that  is  not 
produced  directly  by  the  agency  of  distinctively  human 
intelligence ;  human  may  apply  to  every  effect  that  is 
produced  by  this  agency,  and  made  or  re-made  may  in- 
clude all  such  ideas  as  might  be  expressed  specifically  by 
terms  like  shaped,  arranged,  applied,  combined,  or,  as  has 
been  intimated,  by  reshaped,  rearranged,  reapplied,  recoin- 
bined,  or,  to  repeat  the  term  already  used,  re-presented. 

But  is  not  what  has  just  been  affirmed  of  one  illustra- 
tion of  art  true  in  all  cases  ?  In  the  first  place,  are  not 
all  art-products  necessarily  reproductions  of  that  which 
nature  furnishes,  though,  of  course,  in  different  degrees 
and  ways?  A  man  can  absolutely  create  none  of  the 
materials  which  he  uses,  nor  the  laws  according  to  which 
they  operate.  He  can  merely  put  into  new  shapes  and 
use  with  new  combinations  and  applications  that  which 
already  exists  in  the  world  about  him.  This  is  true  not 
only  in  the  lower  arts  where  the  fact  is  evident,  but  in 
the  higher. 

"The  term  invention,''  says  Henry  Fuseli  in  the  third 
of  his  "  Lectures  on  Painting,"  "  never  ought  to  be  so  far 
misconstrued  as  to  be  confounded  with  that  of  creation^ 


4  ART  IN   THEORY. 

incompatible  with  our  natures  as  limited  beings  .  .  . 
and  admissible  only  when  we  mention  Omnipotence. 
...  It  discovers,  selects,  combines  the  possible^  the 
probable,  the  known  in  a  mode  that  strikes  us  with  an  air 
of  truth  and  novelty  at  once.  .  .  .  To  invent  is  to 
find  ;  to  find  something,  presupposes  its  existence  some- 
where, implicitly  or  explicitly,  scattered  or  in  a  mass." 
"  The  art  of  seeing  nature,  or,  in  other  words,  the  art  of 
using  models,"  says  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  in  the  twelfth 
of  his  *'  Discourses  before  the  Royal  Academy,"  **  is  in 
reality  the  great  object,  the  point  to  which  all  our  studies 
are  directed."  "  Agassiz,  who  examined  this  drawing  of 
*  The  Nightmare,' "  says  S.  P.  Long  on  page  48  of  his 
"Art;  its  Laws  and  the  Reasons  for  Them,"  "and  an- 
other of  a  '  Devil  Tormenting  St.  Anthony,'  by  Salvator 
Rosa,  thought  he  detected  in  the  head  of  the  former  the 
monkey  with  ass's  ears,  and  in  the  head  of  the  latter  the 
hog,  in  the  beak  some  ravenous  bird,  in  the  arms  the 
skeleton  wings  of  the  eagle,  in  the  legs  the  bones  of  a 
man,  and  in  the  tail  the  monkey.  The  original  of  all  but 
the  head  of  '  The  Nightmare  '  he  could  not  determine  with 
any  exactness,  but  he  had  no  doubt  of  its  being  selected 
and  combined  from  real  existences'' — an  opinion  with 
which,  probably,  we  shall  all  be  prepared  to  agree  when 
we  recall  the  unmistakable  absence  of  any  appearances 
that  fail  to  resemble  those  of  the  earth  in  all  attempts  on 
the  part  of  men  to  picture  spiritual  beings  or  a  place  of 
spiritual  existence.  A  similar  assertion  could  be  made 
with  reference  to  the  results  produced  in  all  the  other 
higher  arts.  In  poems  and  dramas,  the  characters  repre- 
sented, although  Homeric  gods  or  Miltonic  angels,  speak 
and  act  in  ways  showing  that  the  artist's  ideas  concerning 
them  have  been  modelled  upon  forms  natural  to  men  and 


NATURE  AND  ART.  5 

women  of  the  earth.  Even  in  music  and  architecture,  the 
principle  holds  good,  though  in  a  more  subtle  sense. 
There  would  be  no  melodies  if  it  were  not  for  the  natural 
songs  of  men  and  birds  or  for  what  are  called  "the 
voices  of  nature  " ;  nor  would  there  be  buildings  were 
there  not  in  nature  rocks  and  trees  furnishing  walls  and 
columns  and  water-sheds,  to  say  nothing  of  the  innume- 
rable forms  suggested  by  the  trunks,  branches,  leaves, 
flowers  and  other  natural  figures  which  architectural 
details  unmistakably  imitate.  In  a  word — to  repeat  what 
was  said  before, — the  effects  of  art  are  not  what  they  are 
because  they  are  unnatural.  On  the  contrary,  they  all  do 
no  more  than  remake,  reproduce,  reshape ,  rearrange,  re- 
apply,  recombine,  represent  appearances  that  nature  first 
supplies. 

In  the  second  place,  is  it  not  true  that  in  all  cases  art 
results  from  influences  that  have  been  exerted  upon 
nature  by  man  as  the  possessor  of  a  human  mind,  and 
that,  in  this  sense,  it  is  made  human  or  is  re-made  by  the 
human  mind  ?  To  go  back  again  to  the  contrast  between 
what  is  done  by  the  child  and  by  the  actress,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  believe  that  a  woman  can  act  the  part  of  a 
child,  except  as  a  result  of  that  mental  application  of  means 
to  ends  which  we  term  design.  It  is  because  we  recog- 
nize this  element  in  her  actions  that  we  attribute  them 
to  art.  In  fact,  the  words  art  and  design  are  sometimes 
used  as  if  synonymous.  A  cousin  of  mine  went  to  a  ball. 
He  came  back  raving  about  a  young  miss  fresh  from  the 
country  who  had  fascinated  him  there.  A  few  days  later, 
he  was  told  that  she  was  an  experienced  coquette  who 
had  long  been  out  of  her  teens.  Then  he  began  to  talk 
of  her  arts,  he  began  to  recognize  in  her  a  creature  of 
design.     And  we  shall  find  that  universally  when  we  speak 


6  ART  tN   THEORY, 

of  art,  whether  of  its  lowest  or  highest  manifestations, — 
all  the  way  from  sighs  to  symphonies  or  canes  to  cathe- 
drals,— we  mean  something  which  is  a  manifestation  of 
design. 

Not,  however,  of  design/^;'  se ;  but  only  of  human 
design.  Men  speak  sometimes  of  the  designs  of  the 
lower  animals,  but  were  they  asked  if  what  they  knew  to 
be  a  choice  specimen  of  coral  were  a  work  of  art,  they 
would  answer  *'  No,"  and  give  as  their  reason,  the  fact 
that  it  is  produced  by  a  polyp.  Men  speak  too  of  the 
designs  of  the  Almighty,  and  these  they  may  believe  to 
be  manifested  by  everything  produced  or  done  in  the 
universe.  Design,  as  applied  to  the  methods  of  art,  sig- 
nifies that  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  which  results 
from  the  action  of  the  human  mind  only. 

So  far  as  we  have  yet  been  able  to  define  it,  art  is 
nature  made  human.  It  is  important  to  notice  now  that 
we  can  recognize  a  product  to  be  a  work  of  art  in  the 
degree  only  in  which  we  can  recognize  in  it  both  of  the 
elements — natural  and  human — which  enter  into  its  com- 
position. An  ordinary  walking-stick,  for  instance,  shows 
both  that  it  grew  and  that  it  has  been  shaped  by  a  man. 
More  than  this,  we  recognize  in  it  the  effects  of  the  man's 
work  in  the  degree  only  in  which  we  perceive  the  differ- 
ence between  the  condition  in  which  natural  growth  left 
it  and  that  into  which  man  has  shaped  it, — in  other 
words,  only  as  it  reveals  the  results  both  of  nature  and 
of  human  design.  Nature  'inade  human,  or  nature  re-made 
by  the  human  mind,  is,  of  course,  a  very  broad  definition 
of  art — one  that  scarcely  begins  to  suggest  all  that  is 
needed  for  a  full  understanding  of  the  subject.  But  it  is 
one  that  all  can  accept,  and  therefore  it  will  serve  as  a 
starting-point  for  what  is  to  follow. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE   IN  ART. 

The  Fine  Arts,  The  Arts,  Les  Beaux-Arts — These  Manifest  the  Finest  and 
most  Distinctive  Art-Qualities — Arts  Ranked  by  the  Degree  in  which 
they  most  Finely  and  Distinctively  Reproduce  Nature  :  Useful,  Opera- 
tive, Mechanical,  Technic,  Applied  Arts  in  which  the  Appearance  is 
Non-Essential  ;  Ornamental  and  Esthetic  Arts  of  Design  in  which 
the  Appearance  is  Essential — In  these  Latter,  Form  is  Essential — Forms 
Modelled  upon  those  of  Nature  most  Finely  and  Distinctively  Reproduce 
it,  and  Belong  to  The  Fine  Arts  or  The  Arts — Universal  Recognition 
of  the  Study  of  Nature  as  Essential  to  the  Production  of  these — Forms 
Addressing  and  Expressing  the  Higher  Intellectual  Nature  through 
Sound  and  Sight  are  Finely  and  Distinctively  Human, — So  are  Forms 
Attributable  to  a  Man  as  Distinguished  from  an  Animal — These  Forms 
are  such  as  are  Traceable  to  the  Use  of  the  Human  Voice — And  of  the 
Human  Hand — What  Arts  are  Highest,  and  their  Two  Main  Charac- 
teristics— The  Artist,  the  Artisan,  and  the  Mechanic — Effectiveness  of 
the  Products  of  the  Former. 

\\T  E  are  to  deal  in  this  essay  not  with  all  the  products 
of  art,  but  with  a  particular  class  of  them,  to  some 
of  which,  among  other  terms,  that  of  the  fine  arts,  and  to 
all  of  which  the  term  the  arts  is  applied.  It  may  be  of 
interest  to  recall  here,  too,  that  the  former  term  is  an 
English  substitute  for  the  French  ''  Les  Beaux-Arts," 
first  used  in  the  "  Reflexions  Critique  sur  la  Poesie  et  la 
Peinture,"  published  by  the  Abbe  Du  Bos  in  1719.  Ac- 
cording to  the  first  and  historic  part  of  Professor  William 
Knight's  "-  Philosophy  of  the  Beautiful,"  a  work  which  has 
proved  of  much  service  in  the  preparation  of  the  present 
volume,  the  term  afterwards  came  to  be  used  as  follows : 

7 


8  ART  IN   THEORY, 

^'  In  the  seventeenth  century  certain  schools  of  Painting 
and  Sculpture  were  instituted.  A  school  of  Architecture 
followed.  In  1793  these  were  united  in  one,  an  '  ficole 
des  Beaux-Arts.*  When,  subsequently,  an  '  Academie 
des  Beaux-Arts  *  was  established,  Music  was  added. 
Poetry  was  left  out,  partly  because  it  could  not  be 
taught,  and  partly  from  an  idea  that  it  belonged  to  a 
loftier  sphere.  In  the  *  Dictionnaire  des  Sciences,  des 
Lettres,  et  des  Arts,*  the  arts  of  Design  only  are  included 
— Painting,  Sculpture,  Engraving,  Architecture,  Music, 
and  Drawing.'* 

Thus  far  we  have  gone  upon  the  supposition  that  men 
use  different  terms,  like  nature  and  art,  in  order  to  ex- 
press different  conceptions.  We  may  as  well  apply  the 
same  supposition  here,  and  infer  that  men  class  among 
the  fine  arts  or  the  arts  those  products  which,  according 
to  their  conceptions,  manifest  the  qualities  of  art  that 
are  the  finest  and  most  distinctive.  What  products  are 
these  ?  Evidently,  if  art  be  nature  made  human,  they 
are  those  which  most  finely  and  distinctively  belong  to 
nature,  and,  at  the  same  time,  are  the  most  finely  and 
distinctively  made  human. 

What  products,  then,  most  finely  and  distinctively 
belong  to  nature  ?  Those  certainly  which,  other  things 
considered,  appear  to  be  the  least  changed  from  the  state 
in  which  they  are  found  in  nature.  As  a  first  step  toward 
the  discovery  of  these,  it  is  important  to  notice  that  all 
possible  art-products  can  be  divided  into  two  classes — 
those  in  which  appearances,  whether  of  nature  or  of  any 
kind,  are  not  essential,  and  those  in  which  they  are 
essential.  In  the  former  class  we  may  place  all  those 
compounds  and  constructions,  from  the  lightest  fluids 
and   fibres  to   the   heaviest  instruments  and  machines, 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE  IN  ART.  9 

which  are  designed,  not  for  the  appearance  that  they 
present,  but  for  the  work  that  they  do.  They  belong  to 
what  are  termed,  when  chief  reference  is  had  to  the 
motive,  the  useful  arts  ';  when  to  the  method,  the  opera- 
tive or  mechanical  arts ;  when  to  the  effect,  the  technic 
or  applied  arts.  In  the  class  contrasted  with  these  we 
may  place  everything  in  which  appearances  are  a  chief 
matter  of  consideration,  the  word  appearance  being  uni- 
versally used  in  this  connection  to  indicate  an  outward 
effect  upon  either  the  eye  or  the  ear.  Here  belong  what 
are  termed,  when  chief  reference  is  had  to  the  motive, 
the  ornamental  arts ;  when  to  the  method,  the  arts  of 
design ;  and  when  to  the  effect,  the  cesthetic  arts.  In  a 
general  way,  these  arts  may  be  said  to  include  all  prod- 
ucts, alike  in  kind,  that  range  between  a  carved  penholder 
and  a  palace,  between  a  jews-harp's  humming  and  an 
overture.  Of  course,  in  certain  respects,  the  aesthetic 
arts  may  be  as  useful  as  any  that  are  termed  useful :  but 
the  aesthetic  utility  is  always  such  as  produces  not  a  ma- 
terial but  a  mental  result,  and  even  no  mental  result 
except  indirectly  through  an  effect  upon  the  senses. 

Because  appearance  is  essential  in  aesthetic  art,  it  is 
essential  that  all  its  products  have  what  is  termed  form. 
The  word  is  from  the  Latin  forma^  meaning  an  appear- 
ance, and  is  applied  especially  to  what  presents  a  definitely 
outlined  or  concrete  appearance.  All  art-products,  in  one 
sense,  have  form,  but  only  in  the  degree  in  which  the 
appearance  is  essential  can  we  say  that  form  is  essential. 

This  statement  implies — what  needs  to  be  noticed  next 
— that  there  are  different  degrees  and  classes  among  the 
aesthetic  arts.  House-painting  cannot  rank  as  high  as 
landscape-painting  nor  masonry  as  sculpture.  What  are 
the  characteristics  of  the  products  for  which  we  are  in 


lO  ART  IN   THEORY. 

search — of  products  which,  in  the  finest  and  most  distinc- 
tive sense,  are  those  of  nature  ?  The  very  phraseology  of 
the  question  answers  it.  They  are  the  products  which 
have  forms  or  appearances  the  most  Hke  those  of  nature, 
products  which  we  could  unmistakably  define  2.^  forms  of 
nature  made  human.  Unfigured  silk,  however  ornamental, 
is  not  one  of  these  products  because  it  is  not,  or  has  not, 
necessarily,  an  appearance  in  any  sense  attributable  to 
nature;  nor  is  a  steam-engine,  however  elaborately  its 
parts  may  be  mounted  and  polished.  A  man  accustomed 
to  use  words  with  discrimination,  and  with  the  idea  of 
the  fine  arts  or  the  ai'ts  in  mind,  might  say  of  the  latter, 
*'  It  looks  like  a  work  of  art,"  but  he  would  not  say,  *'  It 
is  a  work  of  art "  ;  and  this  not  only  because  he  would 
feel  that  it  should  be  classed  with  objects  designed  for 
use  rather  than  for  ornament,  but  also  because  he  would 
feel  that  its  forms,  however  ornamental  in  this  case,  were 
not  in  the  finest  and  most  distinctive  sense  those  of 
nature.  To  be  this,  their  outward  effects  upon  the  eye 
or  ear  should  suggest,  like  the  carving  of  a  man's  head, 
the  picture  of  a  tree,  the  dialogue  of  a  drama,  the  bird- 
trill  of  a  song,  certain  outward  effects  of  nature  upon 
which  they  have  been  modelled.  Only  to  classes  of 
products  containing  suggestions  like  these  can  terms  like 
the  fine  arts  or  the  arts  be  applied  by  way  of  distinction. 

That  this  is  so  seems  to  be  universally  recognized  in 
practice,  at  least,  if  not  in  theory.  Who  does  not  ac- 
knowledge that  one  characteristic  of  all  great  artists, 
especially  of  those  who  are  leaders  in  their  arts,  is  the 
faithful  study  that  they  give  to  nature.  We  may  not 
admire  the  social  customs  of  ancient  Greece  that  allowed 
its  sculptors  frequent  opportunities  to  observe  the  un- 
clothed forms  of  both  the  sexes ;  we  may  shrink  from 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE  IN  ART,  It 

believing  the  story  of  a  Guido  murdering  his  model  in 
order  to  prepare  for  a  picture  of  the  crucifixion  ;  or  of  a 
David  coolly  sketching  the  faces  of  his  own  friends  when 
put  to  death  amid  the  horrors  of  the  French  Revolution  ; 
yet,  in  all  these  cases,  there  is  an  artistic  lesson  accom- 
panying the  moral  warning.  It  was  not  in  vain  that 
Morland's  easel  was  constantly  surrounded  by  represen- 
tatives of  the  lower  classes  ;  that  Hogarth  always  had  his 
pencil  with  him  on  the  streets  and  in  the  coffee-houses ; 
or  that,  morning  after  morning,  Corot's  canvas  caught  its 
colors  long  before  the  eastern  sky  grew  red  with  sunlight. 
Or,  if  we  turn  to  literature,  it  is  not  an  insignificant  fact 
that  Shakespeare  and  his  contemporaries  who  gave  form 
to  the  modern  drama,  as  well  as  Goethe,  who  records  in 
his  "  Wahrheit  und  Dichtung  "  the  way  in  which  he  spent 
his  youth  in  Frankfort  and  his  age  in  Weimar,  were  for 
years  the  associates  both  of  the  audiences  and  actors  in 
city  theatres ;  or  that  Fielding,  who  gave  form  to  the 
modern  novel,  was  the  justice  of  a  police  court.  High 
art  is  distinctively  a  form  of  nature — a  form  that  is  this 
in  the  sense  of  being  perceptible  in  nature,  or  at  least 
directly  suggested  by  it. 

Now  let  us  ask  what  arts  those  are,  which  can  be  said 
to  be  in  the  finest  and  most  distinctive  sense  made  human. 
Here,  too,  we  can  begin  by  accepting  the  ordinary  judg- 
ments of  the  world.  Later  on,  if  we  choose,  we  can  go 
deeper  into  the  question.  There  is  no  doubt  that  men 
associate  with  the  production  of  the  highest  art,  the 
highest  results  of  human  intelligence.  '*  As  it  is  by  his 
mind  that  man  is  superior  to  animals,"  says  F.  T.  Pal- 
grave  in  his  essay  on  ''  Poetry  and  Prose  in  Art,"  "  so 
it  is  ever  by  the  quality  of  that  mind  that  one  man's 
work  differs  from  another's."     For  this  reason,  the  class 


12  ART  IN   THEORY. 

of  art  for  which  we  are  in  search  obliges  us  to  exclude 
from  consideration,  first  of  all,  such  phenomena,  whatever 
of  ornament,  design,  or  aesthetics  they  may  suggest,  as 
appeal  to  attention  through  merely  one  of  the  lower 
senses  of  touch,  taste,  or  smell.  The  poet  Coleridge,  in 
the  third  of  his  "  Essays  on  the  Fine  Arts,"  says  that  this 
is  so  because  the  effects  of  these  are  '*  not  divisible  into 
parts."  Notice  what  is  said  in  Chapter  XII  of  complexity 
as  an  element  of  beauty.  At  present  we  shall  sufficiently 
recognize  the  truth  of  his  remark  upon  recalling  that  only 
something  radically  complex  in  its  nature  naturally 
stimulates  us  to  think  in  order  to  understand  it.  But 
waiving  the  exact  explanation  at  present,  we  know  at  any 
rate  that  for  some  reason  effects  appealing  through  these 
senses  do  not  address,  and  therefore  we  conclude  that 
they  do  not  express,  the  higher  intellectual  and  spiritual 
nature.  Accordingly,  we  must  find  the  arts  that  in  the 
finest  and  most  distinctive  sense  are  human  among  those 
alone  the  products  of  which  are  apprehended  in  the  realms 
of  sound  or  of  sight. 

Again,  the  class  for  which  we  are  in  search  obliges  us 
to  exclude  from  consideration  even  those  products  in 
sound  or  sight  which  are  not  clearly  attributable  to  a 
human  being  as  distinguished  from  an  animal.  In  trying 
to  determine  exactly  what  these  products,  and  the  classes 
to  which  they  belong,  are,  it  would  evidently  be  illogical 
to  start  by  theorizing  with  reference  to  such  subtle  differ- 
ences distinguishing  the  two  as  are  dependent  upon 
merely  mental  states  or  capacities.  These  differences 
can,  at  best,  be  only  indirectly  inferred.  Actual  observa- 
tion never  starts  with  them  ;  and  we  should  start  where 
it  starts,  namely,  with  something  directly  perceptible, 
which  itself  is  the  occasion  of  their  being  inferred — with 


FORM  AND  SIGNIFICANCE  IN  ART.  1 3 

something  belonging,  therefore,  not  to  the  hidden  psychi- 
cal but  to  the  apparent  physical  nature.  What  then  are  the 
physical  differences — not  all  of  them,  but  those  connected 
with  the  reproduction  of  effects  of  sound  and  sight — which 
distinguish  the  human  from  the  merely  animal  body? 

The  question  is  readily  answered.  They  are  the  vocal 
organs  and  the  hands.  To  begin  with  the  former,  a  man 
can  produce  such  variations  of  intonation  and  articulation 
as  to  enable  him  to  represent  wellnigh  every  object  of 
thought  and  phase  of  feeling  in  a  definite  vocal  form  ;  and 
with  this  possibility  none  of  the  lower  animals  are 
endowed.  Notice  now  the  inferences  that  follow.  A 
man  can  select  for  imitation  such  sounds  of  nature,  or 
can  originate  such  sounds,  as  are  appropriate  for  expres- 
sion, and  he  can  use  these  as  in  language.  The  lower 
animals,  whatever  may  be  the  character  or  extent  of  their 
thoughts  and  feelings,  cannot  make  these  selections  of 
sounds,  nor  originate  them  ;  and,  therefore,  they  cannot 
construct  language,  nor  know  what  it  is  to  use  it.  Accord- 
ingly, their  mental  experience,  however  full  it  may  be  of 
recollections  of  sounds  or  of  sights,  is,  at  least,  not  an 
aggregate  of  consecutive  processes  resulting  from  the 
grammatical  and  logical  arrangement  of  sounds  used  as 
symbols,  which  is  the  case  with  that  accumulation  of  in- 
flections and  words  and  of  scenes  suggested  by  them, 
which  together  constitute  a  man's  internal  world  of  imagi- 
nation. Or,  even  if  these  animals  may,  at  times,  think 
and  feel  as  a  man  does,  they  certainly  do  not  express 
themselves  as  he  does.  The  bird  can  sing  and  the  beast 
can  roar ;  but  neither  can  do  both ;  nor  is  there  any 
proof  that  either  has  the  power  of  making  new  sounds 
in  order  to  indicate  newly  discovered  distinctions  between 
thoughts  or  feelings. 


14  ART  IN   THEORY, 

The  other  physical  difference  between  a  man  and  the 
lower  animals,  which  applies  to  the  subject  before  us,  is 
noticeable  in  his  hand.  The  structure  of  this  is  such  that 
there  is  hardly  any  limit  to  the  variety  of  objects  that  he 
can  produce.  The  animals  have  nothing  comparable  to 
it.  Notice  the  inferences  from  this  fact  too.  A  man 
can  select  for  reproduction  such  phases  of  the  products 
of  nature  appealing  to  sight,  or  he  can  originate  such  of 
these,  as  are  appropriate  for  expression :  and  he  can  so 
vary  the  objects  that  he  makes  as  to  cause  them  to  be 
very  definitely  expressive.  But  the  animals  can  repro- 
duce little  that  they  see  ;  and  never  much  more  than 
is  necessary  for  their  physical  sustenance.  They  cannot 
with  their  mouths,  beaks,  paws,  or  claws  construct  a 
single  written  character  or  picture  of  such  a  nature  as  to 
indicate  clearly  any  particular  thought  or  any  particular 
scene  suggesting  it.  They  can  scarcely  construct  even 
an  implement  or  a  machine  showing  unmistakably  that 
it  was  designed  to  be  a  means  of  accomplishing  an  end 
conceivable  only  as  a  result  of  a  consecutive  and  compli- 
cated mental  process. 

The  higher  arts  which  are  attributable  to  the  possibilities 
of  expressing  thought  and  feeling  through  the  use  of  the 
human  voice  and  hands  are  usually  represented  as  being 
the  following  :  music,  developed  from  expression  through 
the  intonations  of  the  voice ;  poetry,  from  expression 
through  both  its  intonations  and  articulations;  and 
painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  from  expression 
through  the  use  of  the  hands  in  pictures,  carvings,  and 
constructions.  But  until  intervening  matter  can  make 
clear  the  explanations  to  be  given  in  Chapter  IX,  there 
is  nothing  in  what  has  been  said  so  far,  to  lead  us  to  ex- 
clude from  this  class  either  elocution,  oratory,  dancing, 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE  IN  ART.  1$ 

pantomime,  dramatics,  decorating,  or  landscape-gardening. 
Without  pausing  to  determine  here  the  exact  limitations 
of  the  arts  for  which  we  are  in  search,  it  is  sufficient  if  we 
recognize,  at  this  point,  that  all  the  products  of  them  are 
clearly  differentiated  from  those  of  any  other  class,  in 
being,  first  of  all,  reproductions  of  the  appearances  of 
nature,  and,  second,  in  connection  with  this,  expressions 
of  thought  and  feeling.  Every  artist,  as  John  Ruskin 
says  of  the  painter,  in  his  "  Modern  Painters,"  Part  II,  Sec. 
I,  Chap.  I,  "  must  always  have  two  great  and  distinct 
ends  ;  the  first,  to  induce  in  the  spectator's  mind  the 
faithful  conception  of  any  natural  object  whatsoever;  the 
second,  to  guide  the  spectator's  mind  to  those  objects 
most  worthy  of  its  contemplation,  and  to  inform  him  of 
those  thoughts  and  feelings  with  which  these  were 
regarded  by  the  artist  himself,"  a  statement  which  is  ex- 
actly paralleled  by  one  of  John  Opie,  who  declares  in  the 
first  of  his  ''  Lectures  on  Design,"  that  '*  the  end  of 
painting,  in  its  highest  style,  is  twofold  :  first,  the  giving 
effect,  illusion,  or  the  true  appearance  of  objects  to  the 
eye  ;  and  secondly,  the  combination  of  this  with  the  ideal." 
These  affirmations  which  might  be  multiplied  indefi- 
nitely, accord  with  those  of  the  majority  of  thinkers  upon 
this  subject.  It  is  wellnigh  universally  recognized  that 
the  poet  is  not  a  reporter,  nor  the  painter  a  photographer, 
nor  any  artist  at  all  entitled  to  the  name,  a  mere  copyist. 
For  this  reason,  it  is  felt  that  while,  in  the  main,  he  is  a 
careful  observer  of  outward  appearances,  he,  too,  as  well 
as  the  workman  in  so-called  useful  art,  must  have  ability 
to  penetrate  in  some  way  to  something  underlying  these  ; 
that  pathos  in  ballads,  passion  in  dramas,  groupings  on 
canvas,  attitudes  in  marble,  arches  in  cathedrals,  cannot 
be  produced  so  as  to  have  anything  approximating  an 


l6  ART  IN    THEORY. 

artistic  effect — be  produced  so  as  to  cause  forms  to  fulfil 
both  physical  and  mental  laws, — if  their  authors  have  either 
studied  the  sounds  and  sights  of  nature  to  the  exclusion 
of  its  operations, — under  which  term  may  be  included  its 
effects  upon  thought  and  feeling  as  well  as  upon  matter, — 
or  have  studied  the  latter  to  the  exclusion  of  the  former. 
Men  name  the  producer  of  the  highest  aesthetic  results  an 
artist.  By  this  term  they  distinguish  him  from  one  whose 
skill  exhibits  a  more  partial  exercise  of  his  various  possi- 
bilities, whom  they  term,  if  his  products  repeat  merely  the 
appearances  of  nature,  an  artisan  ;  if  they  repeat  merely 
its  operations,  a  mechanic.  The  highest  aesthetic  art  must 
do  both. 

There  is  a  sense,  too,  in  which  this  art  is  often  able  to 
repeat  the  most  effective  even  of  nature's  operations  in 
the  most  effective  way.  What  is  it  in  nature  that  operates 
the  most  powerfully?  Not  the  wind  or  fire  or  earth- 
quake, but  rather  the  still  small  voice,  sighing  for  us  in 
the  silence  of  our  reveries.  So  in  the  works  of  man,  not 
in  the  railway  or  the  telegraph,  in  the  rattle  or  the 
flash  of  material  forces  that  deafen  or  dazzle  us,  do  we 
apprehend  the  presence  of  the  most  resistless  power. 
Just  as  frequently,  more  frequently,  perhaps,  we  recog- 
nize it  in  connection  with  those  products  of  art  which, 
though  they  seemingly  may  influence  activity  as  slightly 
as  the  ministering  angels  of  a  dream,  yet,  like  them  too, 
come  often  summoning  souls  to  high  companionship,  and 
everything  that  this  can  signify,  with  all  that  is  most  true 
and  good  and  beautiful. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FORM    AND    SIGNIFICANCE    AS    ANTAGONISTIC:     CLASSI- 
CISM   AND    ROMANTICISM. 

The  Two  Antagonistic  Requirements  of  Art — Mention  of  the  Symbolic — 
Of  the  Realistic  or  Naturalistic — Origin  of  the  Terms  Classic  and 
Romantic — Classicism— Its  Earlier  Influence — Later  Tendency  toward 
Imitation — Toward  Decline  in  Music  and  Poetry — In  Painting  and 
Sculpture — Reason  of  this  in  Architecture — Revivals  in  Styles — Ro- 
manticism— In  it  the  Idea  Supreme — But  the  Best  Results  are  Developed 
from  Previous  Excellence  in  Form — Tendency  of  Romanticism  in 
Music — Wagner's  Dramatic  Effects — Romanticism  in  Poetry — Whit- 
man— In  Painting  and  Sculpture — Early  Christian  Art — Beneficial 
Effects  upon  Romanticism  of  Classicism — Condition  in  our  own 
Times  —  Architecture  :  Exclusive  Classicism  Debasing  —  Exclusive 
Romanticism  Debasing — The  Best  Periods  Manifest  Both — Necessity 
of  Considering  the  Double  Character  of  Art. 

TT  has  been  shown  that  the  kind  of  art,  or  of  nature 
made  human^  which  we  are  to  consider  in  this  book 
necessitates  two  things :  first,  a  reproduction  of  the  ap- 
pearances of  nature  ;  and  second,  an  expression  of  thought 
or  feeling.  These  two  requirements  are  apparently  very- 
different.  How  can  any  one  who  has  to  deal  with  art  pay 
due  regard  to  each  and  yet  do  full  justice  to  both  ?  This 
is  a  question  which  just  here  must  evidently  confront  any 
attempts  at  solving  the  problems  before  us,  whether  theo- 
retical or  practical ;  and  it  must  be  answered.  To  show 
the  difficulty  of  answering  it,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  the 
way  in  which  the  mind  preserves  or  loses  the  balance 
between  the  two  horns  of  the  dilemma  which  the  question 


1 8  ART  IN   THEORY. 

presents,  let  us,  in  this  chapter,  review  briefly  the  results 
of  the  two  main  tendencies  which,  throughout  the  history 
of  art,  have  respectively  exemplified  them.  They  are 
termed,  conventionally,  the  classic  and  the  romantic ; 
and  the  methods  for  which  they  stand,  however  they 
may  be  named,  have  probably  always  existed  and  always 
will  exist. 

It  is  true  that  the  German  philosopher  G.  W.  F.  Hegel, 
and  later  writers  who  have  adopted  his  classifications,  in 
an  endeavor — always  a  perilous  one — to  harmonize  the 
factors  of  historic  and  logical  development,  divide  the 
tendencies  of  art  into  the  symbolic,  as  in  Assyria  and 
Egypt,  the  classic,  and  the  romantic.  But  the  symbolic, 
in  its  earlier  and  more  distinctive  period,  previous  to 
the  time  when  it  becomes  traditional  and  conventional  and 
hence  more  or  less  classical,  is  really  a  preliminary  phase 
of  the  romantic,  from  which  in  its  incipiency  it  does 
not  differ  in  the  radical  sense,  nor  according  to  the  same 
principle,  in  which  both  differ  from  the  classic.  We  shall 
find  that  the  germ  of  the  latter  is  the  conception,  which 
inevitably  tends  to  imitation,  that  art  should  chiefly  em- 
phasize the  form  ;  whereas  the  germ  of  both  the  symbolic 
in  its  initial  stages  and  the  romantic  is  the  conception 
that  the  ideas  expressed  in  the  form  should  be  chiefly 
emphasized.  We  shall  find  also  that  it  is  in  the  degree 
in  which  the  balance  is  maintained  between  these  two 
conceptions,  that  art-production  of  any  kind  is  at  its  best. 

It  ought  to  be  added  here,  too,  in  order  to  prevent 
misunderstanding,  that  neither  of  these  tendencies  is 
identical  with  the  modern  one  that  is  termed  realistic  or 
naturalistic.  This  occupies  a  middle  ground  between  the 
two,  but  not  in  the  sense  of  necessarily  embodying  the 
best  features  of  either.     Like  the  classic,  it  emphasizes 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE   AS  ANTAGONISTIC         1 9 

the  importance  of  form,  if  by  this  be  meant  a  form  that 
appears  in  nature,  which  fact  it  frequently  takes  as  a 
sufficient  justification  for  reproducing  both  the  ugly  and 
the  vile ;  but  unlike  the  classic,  it  is  little  guided  to  its 
results  by  forms  that  have  previously  appeared  in  art. 
Like  the  romantic  again,  the  naturalistic  emphasizes  the 
importance  of  ideas,  if  these  be  such  as  are  necessarily 
associated  with  the  forms  of  nature  ;  but  unlike  this,  it  is 
little  guided  to  its  results  by  such  ideas  or  ideals,  however 
suggested  or  wherever  aimed,  as  are  plainly  due,  in  the 
main,  to  the  artist's  own  imagination.  With  the  tenden- 
cies of  the  naturalistic  as  thus  understood  we  have  nothing 
to  do  now.  It  will  be  noticed,  however,  that,  so  far  as 
they  lead  astray,  they  do  this  because  it  is  supposed  to 
be  all  one  to  art  whether  its  subjects  be  beautiful  or  de- 
formed, or  whether  its  effects  be  inspiring  or  debasing. 
The  first  of  these  suppositions  evidently  differs  from  that 
of  classicism,  which  would  not  emphasize  form  as  it  does, 
unless  having  other  conceptions  with  reference  to  the 
need  of  beauty  in  art.  For  a  like  reason  the  second  sup- 
position differs  from  that  of  romanticism,  which  would 
not  emphasize  ideas  as  it  does,  unless  having  other  con- 
ceptions with  reference  to  what  effects  art  should  pro- 
duce upon  the  mind.  With  this  general  indication  of 
the  relationship  of  the  three  tendencies,  we  drop  the 
consideration  of  the  naturalistic  for  the  present,  and  go 
back  to  the  two  that  suggested  this  paragraph,  namely, 
the  classic  and  romantic. 

What  is  meant  by  these  terms  as  ordinarily  used? 
Centuries  ago,  people  who  spoke  one  of  the  two  lan- 
guages, Greek  or  Latin,  the  degrees  of  proficiency  in 
which  even  in  our  own  colleges  indicate  the  class  to  which 
^  student  belongs,  and  which  everywhere  since  the  revival 


20  ART  IN   THEORY. 

of  learning  have  been  termed,  because  the  literature  com- 
posed in  them  is  supposed  to  belong  to  the  highest  class, 
the  classic  languages, — these  people  produced  certain 
works  of  art,  noticeably  in  poetry,  sculpture,  and  archi- 
tecture, that  are  still  considered  to  equal,  if  not  to  excel, 
anything  produced  in  modern  times.  For  almost  a  thou- 
sand years,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  this  art  was  scarcely 
known,  little  appreciated,  and  seldom  imitated.  In  the 
meantime,  however,  an  artistic  development  manifested 
itself  among  the  different  Romanesque  or  Romantic 
nations,  as  they  are  termed,  /.  ^.,  nations  both  Latin  and 
Gothic,  formed  from  the  fragments  of  the  former  Roman 
Empire.  In  architecture  this  development  culminated 
in  the  style  termed  Gothic.  In  sculpture,  years  before 
the  revival  of  learning,  it  produced  statues  and  busts  like 
those  in  Wells  and  Lincoln  cathedrals,  which  in  form  are 
wellnigh  perfect.  In  music  and  poetry  it  brought  forth 
the  songs  of  the  troubadours  and  the  minnesingers,  and 
also  the  early  rhyming  chronicles  and  ballads.  It  gave 
rise,  too,  to  the  ** mystery  plays"  and  the  "moralities," 
and  was  the  mainspring  of  the  English  drama. 

About  the  fifteenth  century,  however,  owing  partly  to 
the  wars  in  the  Orient  and  the  attendant  renewal  of 
commercial  intercourse  with  the  East,  partly  to  the  fall  of 
Constantinople  and  the  consequent  dispersion  of  Greek 
scholars  through  Europe,  and  partly  to  that  general 
revival  of  interest  in  intellectual  pursuits  that  soon  after- 
ward led  to  the  Reformation,  the  older  classic  languages 
and  art  began  to  attract  attention.  The  matured  results, 
as  they  were,  of  a  matured  civilization,  they  could  not 
but  have  a  moulding  influence  upon  the  theory  and  prac- 
tice of  western  art  with  which  they  were  now  brought 
into  contact. 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE  AS  ANTAGONISTIC.         21 

Whatever  increases  intelligence  tends  to  increase  intel- 
lectual power,  and  the  influence  of  schoolmen  learned  in 
the  classics  was  at  first  only  beneficial.  Nearly  all  mod- 
ern literature  in  every  country  of  Europe  dates  from  the 
Renaissance.  Painting  and  sculpture  attained,  at  that 
time,  an  almost  unprecedented  degree  of  excellence  ;  and 
the  style  of  building  originated  by  Brunelleschi,  Bramante, 
and  Alberti  in  Italy  was  based  upon  principles  that  still 
underlie  the  most  successful  street  architecture  for  large 
cities,  and  which,  artistically  developed,  might  have  led 
then,  and  might  still  lead,  to  results  equalling  anything 
termed  Grecian  or  Gothic. 

But  increased  intelHgence  tends  to  increase  not  only 
intellectual  activity  but  also  pedantry.  The  artistic 
expression  of  pedantry  is  imitation.  As  soon  as  that 
which  was  classic  became  fashionable,  artists  began  to 
forget  to  embody  their  thoughts  and  feelings  in  what 
they  produced.  They  paid  attention  to  forms  alone ; 
even  then  to  forms  as  they  could  be  found,  not  in  nature, 
but  in  celebrated  works  of  art.  With  these  for  their 
models,  and  being  artisans  rather  than  artists,  they  at- 
tained the  highest  object  of  their  ambition  in  the  degree 
in  which  they  attained  success  in  copying.  Their  copy- 
ing, moreover,  necessarily  extended,  after  a  little,  beyond 
the  forms  to  the  ideas  expressed  in  them.  The  subjects 
of  art  came  to  be  not  modern  nor  even  Christian,  but 
ancient  and  mythologic.  For  these  reasons,  the  produc- 
tion of  something  that  imitates  a  previously  existing  form 
or  subject  is  now  one  of  the  recognized  meanings  of  the 
term  classic.  When  the  word  was  used  first,  Greece  and 
Rome  supplied  the  only  classic  products.  Now  any 
works  of  any  nation  are  so  called  as  soon  as  they  have 
become  admired  sufficiently  to  be  used  as  models.     The 


12  ART  IN   THEORY. 

music  of  Bach  and  Haydn  is  now  classic  ;  so,  for  English- 
speaking  peoples,  is  the  poetry  of  Shakespeare,  though 
at  the  time  when  it  was  written  it  was  a  result  of  the 
opposite  tendency.  The  same  term  is  applied  to  certain 
modern — because  resembling  mediaeval  and  ancient — 
styles  of  painting ;  but  never  to  Gothic  architecture,  though 
this  might  be  done  and  not  violate  the  meaning,  which, 
broadly  applied,  the  word  has  now  come  to  have.  It 
was  the  classic  tendency  that  Ellis  manifested  when 
exclaiming  to  the  rising  Reynolds,  *'  This  will  never 
answer ;  why,  you  do  not  paint  in  the  least  degree  in  the 
world  in  the  manner  of  Kneller !  "  and  then,  while  leaving 
the  room  and  slamming  the  door,  crying  out  in  rage  at 
Reynolds*  expostulations,  "  Shakespeare  in  poetry  and 
Kneller  in  painting  for  me  !  " 

The  results  of  this  classic  tendency,  when  manifested 
in  excess,  have  been  injurious  to  all  the  arts, — to  music,  of 
course,  less  than  to  the  others,  because  all  music  of  a  high 
order  is  comparatively  modern.  Yet,  as  we  know,  before 
obtaining  recognition,  every  successive  composer  with 
original  musical  methods,  from  Gluck  to  Wagner,  has 
been  obliged  to  fight  hard  and  long  against  the  classicists 
of  his  day.  The  works  of  two  of  our  greatest  English 
poets  are  not  all  that  they  might  have  been,  merely  be- 
cause their  desire  to  imitate  classic  models  overbalanced 
a  mode  of  expression  natural  to  the  current  of  their  own 
thought  in  their  own  age.  The  ''  Faerie  Queen "  of 
Spenser,  to  use  the  language  of  Ferguson  in  his  "  History 
of  Modern  Architecture,"  Book  IV.,  Introd.,  ''is  a  Chris- 
tian romance  of  the  Middle  Ages,  interlarded  with  classical 
names  and  ill-understood  allusions  to  heathen  gods  and 
goddesses."  Whenever  these  latter  are  introduced,  few 
fail  to  feel  the  presence  of  incongruity,  and  that  this  inter- 


FORM  AND  SIGNIFICANCE  AS  ANTAGONISTIC.        23 

feres  with  artistic  effects.  Milton,  again,  might  have  given 
us  a  poem  more  unique,  had  he  been  as  free  as  Shakespeare 
and  Dante  from  the  spirit  of  imitation  which  made  him 
model  his  great  epic  upon  the  works  of  Homer  and 
Virgil.  The  romantic  tendency  in  poetry,  however,  that, 
with  its  modern  forms  giving  expression  to  modern  ideas 
with  reference  to  modern  subjects,  rose  imperceptibly  in 
Spain,  and,  flowing  through  Provence  and  Normandy, 
broke  in  spray  over  England  in  the  time  of  Chaucer,  and 
watered  it  like  a  Nile-flood  in  that  of  Shakespeare,  had 
but  partly  subsided  in  that  of  Milton.  It  receded  entirely 
only  in  that  high  and  dry  *'  classic  "  age  that  immediately 
followed  him,  when  nothing  could  have  manifested  less  of 
the  purely  romantic  than  the  poetry  and  criticism  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  Even  then,  however,  the  springs  of 
the  opposite  tendency  still  lingered  in  humanity,  and  when 
our  Revolution  and  the  French  Revolution  had  broken 
apart  forms  that  had  arbitrarily  checked  other  sources  of 
energy,  this  too  burst  forth  with  renewed  vigor  in  the  wri- 
tings of  Goethe  and  Schiller  and  Scott  and  Wordsworth. 
The  same  principle  is  exemplified  in  the  history  of 
painting  and  sculpture.  After  original  workers  like  Ra- 
phael, Angelo,  Titian,  Correggio,  Claude,  Rubens,  Teniers, 
come  the  mere  imitators,  and  we  care  scarcely  to  remem- 
ber their  names.  Then  art  goes  on  degenerating,  till,  as 
fortunately  in  some  of  the  schools  of  our  own  day,  men 
arise  who  shake  off  the  undue  influence  of  the  classic 
masters  and  look  more  immediately  to  present  conditions 
and,  in  connection  with  these,  to  nature  for  their  models. 
Thus  they  do,  not  what  the  former  artists  did,  but  as 
they  did,  and  so  pursue  the  only  course  through  which 
it  is  ever  possible  to  originate  styles  that,  in  their  turn, 
will  deserve  to  become  classic. 


24  ART  IN   THEORY. 

It  is  hard  enough  to  produce  a  work  of  art  which  is 
natural,  when  one  models  directly  from  nature.  It  is 
wellnigh  impossible  to  do  so,  when  one  models  merely  or 
mainly  from  that  which  another  man,  however  accurate 
his  eye,  has  seen  in  nature.  The  work  of  the  imitator 
will  be  as  much  inferior  to  the  work  of  art  after  which  he 
models,  as  the  latter  is  to  nature's  original. 

But  of  all  the  arts,  architecture,  perhaps  mainly  because 
of  the  double  character  of  its  products  as  both  useful  and 
aesthetic,  has  suffered  the  most  from  this  classic  tendency. 
In  the  majority  of  cases,  what  thought,  what  design,  do 
we  find  embodied  in  the  modern  building?  Of  what  in- 
ward plan  are  the  outward  forms  an  expression  ?  Through 
the  fagade  that  confronts  us,  what  can  we  read,  what  can 
we  even  guess,  about  the  shapes  or  sizes  or  uses  of  the 
rooms  that  are  behind  it  ? 

During  the  most  of  the  present  century,  little  more  has 
been  done  than  to  imitate  what  have  been  thought  to  be 
the  best  features  of  Grecian,  Gothic,  or  other  styles.  We 
have  had  what  have  been  termed  ''  revivals."  Several 
decades  ago,  the  effects  of  these  showed  themselves  in  a 
literal  reproduction  of  Greek  temples,  with  their  porticos 
and  high  steps,  certainly  not  by  any  means  quite  as  con- 
venient for  a  hurried  merchant  of  the  north  on  a  sleety 
day,  as  for  a  lazy  Oriental  taking  his  ease  where  abun- 
dant shade  could  shelter  him  from  the  burning  sun. 
In  a  form  of  imitation  just  as  classic  in  its  essence,  this 
development  was  followed  a  little  later  by  a  literal  repro- 
duction, but  a  diminished  one,  of  Gothic  cathedrals,  used 
indiscriminately  for  either  markets  or  jails.  Even  when 
employed  as  by  the  older  architects  in  church  edifices, 
their  excess  of  pillars  often  made  them  not  at  all  adapted 
to  modern  requirements.     After  this  came  the  ''  Queen 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE  AS  ANTAGONISTIC.        25 

Anne  "  revival ;  and  it  is  a  sufficient  commentary  upon 
what  it  has  done  for  us  to  notice  how  universally  it  is 
recognized  as  appropriate  to  term  the  style  of  some  of  the 
phases  to  which  it  has  led,  the  "  Bloody  Mary  "  or  the 
"  Crazy  Jane."  The  forms  of  these  latter,  however,  really 
stand  on  the  border  line  between  the  classic  tendency  of 
which  we  have  been  speaking  and  the  romantic.  This  is 
so,  because,  although  called  "  Queen  Anne,"  they  really 
manifest  very  little  regard  for  the  forms  of  this  or  of  any 
classic  style  ;  often,  indeed,  very  little  for  any  new  forms 
which  one  has  a  right  to  dignify  by  placing  them  among 
the  possibilities  of  any  style  whatever. 

The  classic  tendency  being  that  which  prompts  the 
artist  to  imitate  forms  and  subjects  of  the  past,  the  ro- 
mantic has  come  to  mean  just  the  opposite, — namely, 
that  which  allows  the  form  to  be  determined  solely  by 
the  exigencies  of  expression  and  the  expression  solely  by 
the  exigencies  of  the  period.  In  fact,  it  is  hardly  right 
to  say  that  this  latter  tendency  has  come  to  mean  this, — it 
has  always  meant  this.  The  mediaeval  pictures  were  poorly 
drawn.  Their  forms,  as  forms,  were  exceedingly  defec- 
tive. Yet  they  were  fully  successful  in  expressing  exactly 
the  religious  ideas  of  the  time.  Similar  conditions  under- 
lay also,  as  first  developed,  mediaeval  music,  poetry,  and 
sculpture. 

This  being  so,  it  is  evident  that  romanticism,  if  mani- 
fested to  the  total  exclusion  of  classicism  cannot  lead  to 
the  best  results.  The  same  fact  is  still  more  evident 
when  we  consider  that  the  forms  and  themes  of  all  art  of 
the  highest  character,  whenever  and  wherever  it  appears, 
are  developed  upon  lines  of  previously  developed  excel- 
lence ;  and  that  to  model  after  others,  even  in  a  slight 
degree,  is  to  manifest  something  of  the  classic  tendency. 


26  ART  IN   THEORY. 

A  Beethoven,  for  example,  would  have  been  improbable 
without  a  Haydn  ;  a  Raphael  without  a  Perugino  ;  a 
Tennyson  without  a  Keats ;  Corinthian  architecture 
without  Doric ;  and  decorated  Gothic  without  pointed. 

It  is  a  question  whether  the  most  enduring  work  of  even 
the  most  original  artist  is  that  in  which  he  manifests  to  the 
full  his  tendency  to  forsake  the  methods  of  his  predeces- 
sors. Wagner,  for  instance,  will  probably  be  remembered 
chiefly  not  for  the  extended  passages  in  his  "  Siegfried  " 
or  "  Tristan  und  Isolde,**  in  which  he  carried  his  the- 
ories to  excess  ;  but  for  the  passages  mainly  in  the  operas 
of  his  middle  period,  in  which  his  themes  were  developed 
more  in  accordance  with  the  requirements  of  form,  as 
established  by  his  predecessors.  That  he  neglected  these 
requirements  is  more  evident,  perhaps,  in  the  works  of 
his  imitators  than  in  his  own.  To  say  nothing  of  some 
of  the  songs  that  are  now  in  vogue,  the  composers  of 
which  seem  to  have  lost  entirely  the  sense  of  form  in 
melody,  let  the  members  of  an  opera  troupe  that  has 
been  devoted  almost  exclusively  to  the  study  of  Wagner, 
attempt  to  render  such  an  opera,  say,  as  Gounod's 
*'  Faust  '* ;  and  in  view  of  the  way  in  which  they  sing 
passages  like  those  of  the  "  Soldier*s  Chorus,"  or  the 
''  Old  Man*s  Chorus,"  or  the  "  Flower  Song,**  one  will 
have  reason  to  ask  himself  whether  these  performers  are 
not  in  danger  of  losing  entirely  the  sense  of  form  in  even 
such  a  simple  matter  as  musical  rhythm.  Wagner  was, 
possibly,  the  greatest  of  musicians,  and  in  the  orchestra- 
tion of  some  of  his  operas,  noticeably  "  The  Meister- 
singer,"  he  introduced  more  melodies  even,  not  to 
speak  of  harmonies,  than  alone  would  suffice  to  im- 
mortalize an  ordinary  composer  ;  yet  there  is  reason  to 
fear  that  his  followers,  if  they  develop  some  of  his  peculi- 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE  AS  ANTAGONISTIC.        2/ 

arities  a  little  further,  may  ultimately  produce  successors 
who  can  really  be  benefited  in  their  own  chosen  line  of 
development  by  studying  the  art  of  music  where  our 
decorators,  though  not  without  justification,  are  now 
studying  that  of  painting, — in  China  or  Japan. 

Even  the  dramatic  effects,  too,  to  which  Wagner  often 
sacrificed  melody  in  song,  seem  to  have  been  lessened  by 
his  insensibility  to  what  might  have  been  taught  him  by 
the  experience  of  the  past.  There  is  that  indisputable 
requirement  of  variety,  for  instance,  which  certainly  is 
violated  when,  in  an  opera  over  four  hours  long,  the 
monotony  of  continuous  recitative  is  not  relieved  by  a 
single  duet  or  chorus.  Again,  there  is  that  other  equally 
indisputable  requirement  in  dramatic  representation  of 
fidelity  to  the  facts  of  nature.  If  it  were  regarded  in 
**  Tristan  und  Isolde,"  we  should  not  have  a  clandestine 
meeting  of  lovers  in  which  both  often  let  fly  explosive 
tones  at  the  tops  of  their  voices.  Such  are  the  tones 
neither  of  secrecy  nor  of  love,  which  latter,  in  the  degree 
in  which  it  is  deep-seated,  expresses  itself,  not  in  quan- 
tity of  tone,  but  in  quality,  and  in  force  that  is  not 
explosive  but  suppressed — except,  of  course,  in  the  case 
of  the  feline  tribe ;  but  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
Wagner  imagined  himself  to  be  working  up  a  catastrophe 
that  was  not  intended  to  be  in  any  sense  of  the  term 
inhuman. 

To  turn  from  music  to  poetry,  almost  everybody  recog- 
nizes that  Goethe  and  Schiller,  who  were,  at  first,  exceed- 
ingly romantic,  the  one  in  '■'■  The  Sorrows  of  Werther," 
the  other  in  ''  The  Robbers,"  would  never  have  become 
the  great  artists  that  they  did,  had  they  not  subsequently 
studied  criticism  and  form,  in  which  pursuits  the  classics 
of  Greece  and  Rome,  as  well  as  those  of  England,  aided 


28  ART  IN    THEORY. 

them  not  a  little.  Of  English  poets,  Chaucer  and  Shake- 
speare both  accepted  from  writers  whom  they  succeeded, 
not  only  their  romantic  methods  and  themes,  but  even, 
in  some  cases,  their  plots  and  characters.  The  same  is 
true  of  Scott,  whose  first  literary  work  was  to  study  and 
collect  the  *'  Ballads  of  the  Border  Minstrels."  Among 
the  most  exclusively  original  and,  in  this  sense,  romantic, 
of  modern  poets,  are  Wordsworth,  Browning,  and  Hugo. 
All,  like  Wagner,  are  really  greatest  when  they  fail  to 
carry  out  fully  their  own  theories,  and  write  in  a  manner 
approximating  that  of  others  before  them.  The  last  two, 
with  all  their  chaotic  magnificence,  would  have  produced 
works  still  more  effective  artistically,  if  their  ruling  ten- 
dency had  been  balanced  by  a  little  more  of  what  they 
could  have  learned  from  the  classics.  Like  Wagner 
again,  both  are  excessively  dramatic ;  yet  both,  like  him, 
are  given  to  almost  interminable  declamation,  purely 
subjective  in  its  nature,  and  therefore,  in  important 
particulars,  undramatic. 

Our  American  representative  of  the  exclusively  roman- 
tic tendency  is  Whitman.  Most  of  his  productions  are 
entirely  devoid  of  either  metre,  tune,  or  verse,  nor  do 
they  treat  of  subjects  in  themselves  aesthetic,  or  present 
them  in  picturesque  phraseology.  They  are  written  at 
times  in  rhythm,  but  so  is  most  prose  ;  and  the  prose  of 
some,  both  in  spirit  and  form,  is  more  poetic  than  that 
which  his  admirers  call  his  poetry.  That  he  has  been  a 
force  in  literature,  no  one  can  deny.  The  virility  and 
suggestiveness  both  of  his  matter  and  manner  cannot 
but  affect  for  good,  thoughtful  minds  able  to  appreciate 
their  scope  and  meaning.  But  how  many  distinctive 
characteristics  of  poetic  form  do  his  works  embody  ?  And 
if  works  like  these  are  to  become  the  models  of  poetic  form, 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE  AS  ANTAGONISTIC         29 

what,  in  the  future,  will  separate  poetry  from  poetic  prose  ? 
If  poetry, /^r  se,  be  not  destined,  one  of  these  days,  to 
become  a  lost  art,  it  is  because  the  classic  tendency,  no 
trace  of  which  Whitman  manifests,  will  never  be  com- 
pletely overcome. 

The  same  lesson  of  the  importance  of  holding  on  to  the 
traditions  and  teachings  of  the  art  of  preceding  periods, 
is  taught  still  more  strikingly,  perhaps,  in  the  history 
of  painting  and  sculpture.  The  majority  of  the  extant 
Assyrian  and  Egyptian  pictures  and  statues  of  the  so- 
called  symbolic  style  show  that  the  story,  the  idea  to  be 
presented,  was  uppermost  in  the  mind  of  the  artist.  So 
long  as  those  for  whom  this  story  was  depicted  recog- 
nized that  a  particular  figure  was  intended  to  represent  a 
man  or  an  animal,  absolute  fidelity  to  the  appearances  of 
the  forms  in  nature  after  which  it  was  modelled  was  of 
minor  importance.  There  was  an  earlier  period  of  very 
high  attainment  in  Egypt,  however,  and  a  later  one  in 
Greece,  in  which  form  as  form  was  an  end  in  itself.  The 
Greek  artists  and  their  pupils  continued  to  regard  it  in 
this  light  for  many  centuries.  But  with  the  rise  of  Chris- 
tianity, artists,  if  we  may  call  them  this,  sprang  up,  whose 
main  object,  like  that  of  most  of  the  Egyptians,  was, 
through  the  use  of  symbolic  illustrations,  to  communicate 
to  the  common  people,  who  could  not  have  interpreted 
less  graphic  forms,  religious  conceptions. 

The  earlier  of  these  artists  had  undoubtedly  enjoyed 
the  benefit  of  Greek  culture ;  and  it  would  have  been  no 
detriment  to  the  religious  effectiveness  of  pictorial  art, 
had  all  of  them  continued  to  remain  acquainted  with 
what  this  had  taught  them  of  the  principles  underlying 
correct  drawing  and  coloring.  But  these  principles  were 
forgotten  or  neglected  ;  and,  for  almost  a  thousand  years, 


30  ART  IN   THEORY. 

because  wholly  uninfluenced  by  the  methods  of  the  Greek 
classic  artists,  no  sculptures  or  paintings  such  as  would  be 
thoroughly  admired  in  our  day,  were  produced.  After  a 
time,  however,  even  out  of  this  state,  artists  arose  of  such 
excellence  that  their  works  became  standards  and  thus, 
too,  the  bases  of  imitation  and  further  development. 

It  was  only  after  this  at  least  partial  revival  of  the 
classic  tendency,  that  Romanesque  art  began  to  produce 
what,  as  art,  is,  in  our  time,  worthy  of  attention.  Finally, 
with  the  revival  of  classic  learning,  the  older  methods  of 
the  Greeks  began  to  be  practised  again  ;  and  in  the  works 
of  men  like  Angelo  and  Raphael,  we  have  the  Christian 
ideas  of  the  period  embodied  in  forms  worthy  of  the 
Greek  masters.  It  certainly  was  unfortunate  for  the 
artists  who  lived  in  mediaeval  times  that  it  took  a  thou- 
sand years  and  more  to  find  those  who  had  sufficient  sense 
to  know  how  to  strike  the  balance  between  the  romantic 
and  classic  tendencies,  and  to  give  due  weight  to  both. 

But  that  it  should  take  this  length  of  time  should  not 
appear  strange  to  any  who  have  noticed  the  tendencies 
of  art  in  our  own  age.  To  have  that  breadth  of  view 
which  is  able  to  balance  apparently  conflicting  extremes 
and  to  perceive  how  both  can  influence  the  same  product, 
is  apparently  the  least  common  of  human  traits,  espe- 
cially in  those  who  have  dealings  with  art,  either  as  pro- 
ducers or  critics.  For  instance,  no  one  will  deny,  probably, 
that  most  of  the  present  French  painters  of  the  highest 
rank  excel  in  imitation,  i.  e.,  in  reproducing  the  exact 
appearances  of  nature ;  or  that  most  of  the  English 
painters  excel  in  expression,  i.  e.y  in  arranging  these 
appearances  so  as  to  be  significant  of  ideas.  As  a  con- 
sequence, the  French  are  accused  by  their  dectractors  of 
caring   only   for   technique,  and   the    English,  especially 


FORM  AND   SIGNIFICANCE   AS  ANTAGONISTIC.         31 

SO  far  as  their  arrangements  suggest  a  story,  of  being 
literary. 

But  why  cannot  and  why  should  not  a  work  of  art  be 
equally  successful  in  imitation  and  in  expression,  in  exe- 
cution and  in  invention  ? — there  is  no  reason  except  that 
the  most  of  us  are  narrow  in  our  aims  and  sympathies, 
and  prefer  to  have  our  art  as  contracted  and  one-sided  as 
ourselves.  But  this  is  not  the  spirit  that  will  ever  lead 
to  the  development  of  great  art.  It  may  foster  the  me- 
chanical school,  where  everything  runs  to  line,  and  the 
impressionist,  where  everything  runs  to  color,  but  it  will 
not  always  blend  both  lines  and  colors  sufficiently  to 
produce  even  satisfactory  form,  and  it  will  never  make 
this  form  an  inspiring  presence  by  infusing  into  it  the 
vitality  of  that  thought  and  feeling  which  alone  can  en- 
title it  to  be  a  work  of  the  humanities. 

Reference  has  been  made  already  to  the  way  in  which, 
in  accordance  with  the  operation  of  the  classic  tendency, 
the  different  styles  of  architecture  are  developed  from 
one  another.  The  Greek,  for  instance,  passed  from  the 
Doric  through  the  Ionic  and  Corinthian  to  the  Composite; 
and  the  Gothic  passed  from  the  Romanesque,  through 
that  of  the  Pointed  Arch  to  the  Decorated  and  the  Tudor. 
But  while  it  is  true  that  the  very  highest  developments 
of  art  have  usually  appeared  some  time  after  the  sway  of 
what  we  might  term  the  classic  tendency  has  begun,  it  is 
also  true  that  the  continuance  of  this  sway  has  ultimately 
debased  the  art.  Composite  Greek  architecture  and 
Tudor-Gothic  are  universally  recognized  to  rank  lower 
than  the  styles  preceding  them,  though  higher  than  the 
ones  which  followed.  In  this  art,  too,  therefore,  the  clas- 
sic tendency  alone  cannot  lead  to  the  most  satisfactory 
results. 


32  ART  IN    THEORY. 

Again,  it  will  be  noticed  that  the  methods  manifesting 
the  Romantic  tendency,  have  full  sway  only  when  a  new 
style  is  beginning,  or — what  is  the  same  thing — when  an 
old  style  is  being  discarded.  Periods  of  this  kind,  too, 
are  never  those  in  which  we  find  produced  the  best  works ; 
and,  accordingly,  the  romantic  tendency  alone  cannot 
lead  to  the  most  satisfactory  results.  These  latter  ap- 
pear almost  universally  in  the  middle  period  of  a  style, 
the  period  in  which  the  romantic  tendency  is  still  work- 
ing, and  the  classic  is  not  yet  predominating. 

When  a  style  is  just  beginning  to  be  developed,  a 
builder,  having  learned  nothing  from  his  own  experience 
or  that  of  others,  necessarily  makes  mistakes.  His  work 
is  the  expression  of  his  thought.  It  is  original ;  but  not 
always  artistic.  Much  later  on,  in  the  development  of 
the  style,  precisely  the  opposite  condition  is  found.  The 
highest  conception  of  the  builder  seems  to  be  that  his 
forms  should  be  modelled — not  partly,  which  would  be 
unobjectionable,  but  entirely, — upon  those  of  preceding 
buildings,  ancient  or  modern.  These  preceding  buildings 
are  either  wholly  copied  by  him,  in  which  case  the  new 
product  is  a  mere  imitation ;  or  else  several  different 
buildings  are  copied  in  part,  and  in  part  combined  with 
other  forms  that  he  originates ;  in  which  case,  because 
the  method  in  accordance  with  which  such  forms  as  he 
combines  were  brought  together  by  the  earlier  architects 
is  not  known,  often  not  even  studied,  his  new  product  is 
incongruous.  Its  effects  are  produced  with  too  little 
regard  for  the  considerations  which  must  have  influenced 
those  who  produced  the  original  forms  which  are  imitated 
— namely,  the  requirements  of  the  design  of  the  build- 
ing and  of  the  eye  and  mind  as  affected  by  great  natural 
laws  like  those  of  propriety,  proportion,  and  symmetry. 


FORM  AMD   SIGNIFICANCE  AS  ANTAGONISTIC.         33 

In  fact,  in  whatever  way  we  may  look  at  this  subject, 
we  shall  find  that  the  one  thing  which  can  enable  an 
architect  to  produce  that  which,  so  long  as  it  survives, 
may  have  a  right  to  claim  attention  as,  in  its  own  style, 
a  model,  is  for  him  to  bear  in  mind  the  double  character 
of  all  artistic  effects.  Depending  partly  upon  outward 
form,  which  mainly  requires  a  practice  of  the  method 
pursued  in  classic  art,  and  partly  upon  the  thought  or 
design  embodied  in  the  form,  which  mainly  requires  a 
practice  of  the  method  pursued  in  romantic  art,  these 
artistic  effects  appeal  partly  to  the  outward  senses  and 
partly  to  the  inward  mind  ;  and  only  when  they  appeal 
to  both  are  the  highest  possibilities  of  any  art  realized. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ART-FORMS  AS  REPRESENTING  RATHER  THAN  IMITATING 
NATURAL  FORMS. 

Necessity  for  Making  the  Requirements  of  Form  and  Sentiment  in  Art 
Seem  One— Necessity  of  Finding  a  Bond  of  Unity  between  the  Arts 
and  their  Aims— Two  Requirements  Radically  Different— The  Results 
of  this  upon  Theories  and  Methods— Can  the  Two  Requirements  be 
Made  to  Seem  One  ?— The  Character  of  Artistic  Reproduction  of 
Natural  Forms  not  merely  Imitative:  In  Music— In  Poetry— In 
Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — Why  Imitation  alone  is  not 
Sufficient— Art  must  Reproduce  the  Effect  of  Nature  upon  the  Mind 
—This  Done  by  Representation— Connection  between  this  Fact  and 
the  Appeal  of  Art  to  Imagination— To  the  Sympathies— In  Music- 
Poetry— Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture— The  Artist's  Reason 
for  Reproducing  the  Forms  of  Nature  with  Accuracy. 

TT  is  natural  that  the  practical  developments  of  art 
^  just  considered,  tending  to  emphasize  on  the  one 
hand  form  and  on  the  other  hand  significance,  should 
manifest  themselves  in  the  theories  that,  in  different  ages, 
have  been  propounded  with  reference  to  the  subject. 
"  What  is  the  bond  of  unity,"  inquires  Mr.  E.  S.  Dallas, 
the  eloquent  and  suggestive  author  of  "  The  Gay  Science," 
"  which  knits  poetry  and  the  fine  arts  together  ?  What 
is  the  common  ground  upon  which  they  rest?  What 
are  we  to  understand  by  the  sisterhood  of  the  Muses  ? 
.  .  .  Whenever  the  philosopher  has  encountered  this 
question,  as  a  first  step  to  a  science  of  criticism,  he  has 
come  forward  with  one  of  two  answers.     All  attempts 

34 


ART-FORMS  AS  REPRESENTING  NATURAL   FORMS.        35 

to  rear  such  a  science  are  based  on  the  supposition  either 
that  poetry  and  the  fine  arts  have  a  common  method  or 
that  they  have  a  common  theme.  Either  with  Aristotle 
it  is  supposed  that  they  follow  the  one  method  of  imita- 
tion ;  or  with  men  whose  minds  are  more  Platonic,  though 
Plato  is  not  one  of  them,  it  is  supposed  that  they  are  the 
manifestations  of  one  great  idea." 

Without  dwelling  upon  the  exact  connection  suggested 
by  this  author  between  these  two  general  conceptions  of 
art  and  the  theories  of  Aristotle  and  Plato,  which  will  be 
considered  in  Chapter  XV.,  it  will  be  noticed  that  all  that 
has  been  said  thus  far  naturally  leads  us  to  accept  his 
general  conclusion  that  "  both  the  suppositions  upon 
which  these  two  systems  rest,  are  delusive,"  except  that 
we  might  modify  it  by  saying  that  each  is  delusive  in  the 
degree  in  which  it  disregards  whatever  of  truth  there  may 
be  in  the  other.  So  far  as  the  arts  reproduce  natural  form 
they  must,  to  some  extent,  follow  a  method  of  imitation. 
So  far  as  they  express  thought  or  feeling  they  must  to 
some  extent  be  manifestations  of  ideas,  even  if  not  *'  of 
one  great  idea." 

But  if  we  say  no  more  than  this,  it  is  evident  that  we 
have  not  said  enough  to  obtain  a  working  theory  that 
will  effectually  meet  the  practical  difficulties  suggested 
in  the  last  chapter.  Still  less  have  we  obtained  a  theory 
that,  however  it  may  solve  the  problem  of  conflicting 
aims  as  manifested  in  a  single  art,  can  be  applied  to  these 
as  manifested  in  the  different  arts,  which  latter  is  the 
chief  consideration  influencing  Mr.  Dallas  when  referring 
to  "  the  bond  of  unity  knitting  poetry  and  the  fine  arts 
together,"  ""  the  common  ground  upon  which  they  rest." 
His  general  inference,  however,  is  universal  in  its  appli- 
cation, whether  it  be  made  to  refer  to  the  different  aims 


36  ART  IN    THEORY, 

of  a  single  art  or  to  the  aim  of  this  as  related  to  that  of 
other  arts.  If  for  instance  we  emphasize  the  fact  that 
art  reproduces  the  appearances  of  nature^  we  thrust  sculp- 
ture and  painting  into  prominence.  We  term  these  "  the 
fine  arts,"  and  music  or  poetry  on  the  one  hand,  and 
architecture  on  the  other,  are  classed  in  the  same  company 
only  by  a  doubtful  courtesy  which  allows  them  to  cling 
to  the  skirts  of  the  former.  If,  again,  we  emphasize  the 
fact  that  the  arts  are  human,  in  that  they  are  means  of 
communicating  thought  and  feeling,  then  literature  and 
poetry  are  unduly  exalted.  Nor  does  the  emphasis  of 
either  fact  do  justice  either  to  music  or  to  architecture. 
But  is  it  not  surmisable  that  each  of  these  facts  should  re- 
sult from  some  other  fact,  and  that  this  fact  should  be 
equally  recognizable  in  the  reproduction  of  forms  in 
nature  and  in  the  expression  of  the  formative  thought 
and  feeling  in  the  artist's  mind?  If  so,  is  it  not  evident 
that  we  can  classify  all  the  arts  according  to  the  one  fact, 
and  arrange  them  according  to  the  influence  upon  each 
art  of  each  of  the  other  two  facts,  and  that,  thus  doing, 
we  can  find  a  place  somewhere  where  each  art,  when  so 
arranged,  can  stand  without  danger  of  having  the  qualities 
that  render  it  artistic  either  exaggerated  or  belittled  ? 

With  this  suggestion  in  mind,  let  us  examine  again 
more  carefully  the  conflicting  factors  before  us,  as  repre- 
sented in  the  two  different  requirements  of  art  with  which 
we  are  dealing.  They  are  the  reproduction  of  the  appear- 
ances of  nature  and  the  communication  of  thought  and 
feeling ;  or,  as  is  usually  said,  imitation  and  expression. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  if  these  two  could  be  shown  to 
involve  practically  the  same  mental  process,  this  result 
v/ould  be  of  great  advantage  not  only  to  a  proper  under- 
standing of  the  fundamental  principles  of  all  art,  but  also  to 


ART-FORMS  AS  REPRESENTING  NATURAL   FORMS.        37 

facility  ixv  the  application  of  them.  Yet,  at  first  thought, 
the  two  seem  very  different.  How  then  can  they  be 
made  to  seem  not  so? 

In  order  to  answer  this  question  satisfactorily,  we  must 
begin  by  understanding  distinctly  the  conditions  of  the 
two  factors  to  be  considered  in  it ;  in  other  words,  we 
must  determine,  in  a  general  way,  at  least,  just  what  is 
to  be  done  by  the  artist  in  view  of  each  of  the  require- 
ments of  art  to  which  they  refer.  Take  the  first  of  them 
— the  reproduction  of  the  appearances  of  nature.  What 
is  the  diaracter  of  this  reproduction  ?  Is  it  literally  and 
exclusively  an  imitation  ?  Or  being  this  at  times,  is  it 
also,  at  times,  something  more?  Let  others  decide  this. 
''This  principle  of  imitation,"  says  Hegel,  to  quote  from 
the  *' Critical  Exposition  "  of  his  *' Esthetics,"  as  trans- 
lated by  J.  S.  Kedney,  Part  I.,  Chap.  I.,  ''  cannot  even 
apply  to  all  the  arts.  If  it  can  seemingly  justify  itself  in 
sculpture  and  painting,  what  does  it  mean  in  architecture, 
or  in  any  poetry  other  than  mere  description  ?  This  is 
mere  suggestion,  not  imitation.' 

But  to  consider  the  question  as  related  to  each  of  the 
arts  individually,  how  is  it  with  music  ?  ''  What  has 
music  done,"  asks  H.  R.  Haweis  in  his  **  Music  and 
Morals,"  "  for  the  musician  ?  She  has  given  him  sound, 
not  music.  Nowhere  does  there  fall  upon  his  ear,  as  he 
walks  through  the  wide  world,  such  an  arrangement  of 
consecutive  sounds  as  can  be  called  a  musical  subject  or 
theme  or  melody.  Far  less  does  he  find  anything  that 
can  be  described  as  musical  harmony.  The  thunder  is 
not  affecting  because  it  is  melodic,  but  because  it  is  loud 
and  elemental.  The  much  extolled  note  of  the  lark  is 
only  pleasant  because  associated  with  the  little  warbler, 
the  'sightless  song'  in   the  depths  of  the  blue  sky;  for 


38  ART  IN   THEORY, 

when  the  lark's  trill  is  so  exactly  imitated  (as  It  can  be 
with  a  whistle  in  a  tumbler  full  of  water)  that  it  deceives 
the  very  birds  themselves,  it  ceases  to  be  in  the  least 
agreeable,  just  as  the  sound  of  the  wind,  which  can  also 
be  well  imitated  by  any  one  compressing  his  lips  and 
moaning,  ceases  under  such  circumstances  to  be  in  the 
least  romantic.  The  nightingale's  song,  when  at  its  best, 
has  the  advantage  of  being  a  single  and  not  unpleasantly 
loud  whistle.  That,  too,  can  be  imitated  so  as  to  defy 
detection.  But  once  let  the  veil  of  night  be  withdrawn, 
and  the  human  nightingale  disclosed,  and  we  shall  proba- 
bly all  admit  that  his  performance  is  dull,  monotonous, 
and  unmeaning." 

How  is  it  in  the  art  of  poetry  ?  ''  The  very  existence  of 
poetry,"  says  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  in  his  thirteenth  ^'  Dis- 
course on  Painting,"  "  depends  on  the  license  it  assumes 
of  departing  from  actual  nature  in  order  to  gratify  natu- 
ral propensities  by  other  means  which  are  found  by 
experience  fully  as  capable  of  affording  such  gratification. 
It  sets  out  with  a  language  in  the  highest  degree  artificial, 
a  construction  of  measured  words  such  as  never  is  and 
never  was  used  by  man.  Let  this  measure  be  what  it 
may,  .  .  .  rhyme  or  blank  verse  ...  all  are  equally 
removed  from  nature."  In  a  less  degree  the  same  might 
be  affirmed,  perhaps,  of  the  rhetoric  of  oratory.  '^  Did 
you  ever  hear  me  preach  ?  "  demanded  Coleridge  of 
Lamb.  "  I  never  heard  you  do  anything  else,"  was  the 
reply. 

Turn  now  to  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture.  In 
the  latter  of  these  arts,  the  evidences  of  adaptation  so 
overbalance  those  of  imitation,  that  it  is  the  presence  of 
the  latter  rather  than  its  predominance,  that  needs  to 
be  proved.     With  reference  to  painting,  Henry  Fuseli,  in 


ART-FORMS  AS  REPRESENTING  NATURAL  FORMS.       39 

the  first  of  his  "  Lectures  on  Painting,"  says  even  of 
Aristotle  and  other  ancient  writers,  usually  quoted  as 
advocating  the  view  that  all  art  is  imitation  :  ''  Their 
imitation  was  essential,  characteristic,  and  ideal.  The  first 
cleared  nature  of  accident,  defect,  excrescence  ;  the  second 
formed  the  stamen  which  connects  character  with  the 
central  form  ;  the  third  raised  the  whole  and  the  parts  to 
the  highest  degree  of  unison."  And  in  his  fourth  lec- 
ture, when  treating  of  the  most  imitative  department 
of  painting,  that  of  portraiture,  he  speaks  of  *Hhat 
characteristic  portrait  by  which  Silanion  in  the  face  of 
Apollodorus  personified  habitual  indignation  ;  Apelles  in 
Alexander,  superhuman  ambition  ;  Raphael  in  Julio  II., 
pontifical  fierceness ;  Titian  in  Paul  III.,  testy  age  with 
priestly  subtlety,  and  in  Machiavelli  and  Caesar  Borgia, 
the  wily  features  of  conspiracy  and  treason  .  .  .  that  por- 
trait by  which  Rubens  contrasted  the  physiognomy  of 
philosophic  and  classic  acuteness  with  that  of  genius  in 
the  conversation  piece  of  Grotius,  Memmius,  Lipsius,  and 
himself."  Again  he  says:  "The  landscape  of  Titian,  of 
Salvator,  of  the  Poussins,  Claude,  Rubens,  Elzheimer, 
Rembrandt,  and  Wilson,  spurn  all  relation  with  map 
work."  "  It  does  not  look  like  a  man  which  it  is  not," 
declares  Ruskin,  referring  to  statuary,  "  Modern  Painters," 
Part  I.,  Sec.  I.,  Ch.  III.,  ''  but  like  the  form  of  a  man  which 
it  is.  Form  is  form,  bo7iafide  and  actual,  whether  in  marble 
or  in  flesh,  not  an  imitation  or  resemblance  of  form." 
*''■  If  the  producing  of  a  deception,"  remarks  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  significantly  in  his  tenth  ''  Discourse  on  Paint- 
ing," "is  the  summit  of  this  art,  let  us  at  once  ^iyq  to 
statues  the  addition  of  color."  "  Art,"  says  W.  W.  Story, 
the  sculptor,  in  a  late  article  in  "  Blackwood's  Magazine  " 
entitled  "  Recent  Conversations  in  a  Studio,"  "  art  is  art 


40  ART  IN   THEORY. 

because  it  is  not  nature  ;  and  could  we  absolwtely  produce 
anything  by  means  of  form,  tone,  color,  or  any  other 
means,  so  as  actually  to  deceive,  it  would  at  once  fail  to 
interest  the  mind  and  heart  as  art.  However  we  might, 
on  being  undeceived,  wonder  at  the  skill  with  which  it 
was  imitated,  we  should  not  accept  it  as  a  true  work  of 
art.  It  is  only  so  long  as  imitative  skill  is  subordinated 
to  creative  energy  and  poetic  sensibility  that  it  occupies 
its  proper  place.  .  .  .  The  most  perfect  imitation  of 
nature  is  therefore  not  art.  It  must  pass  through  the 
mind  of  the  artist  and  be  changed.  .  .  .  Art  is  nature 
reflected  through  the  spiritual  mirror  and  tinged  with  all 
the  sentiment,  feeling,  passion  of  the  spirit  that  reflects 
it." 

Evidently  the  general  idea  underlying  all  these  quota- 
tions, even  when  it  is  not  explicitly  stated,  serves  to 
confirm  what  we  have  already  found  in  this  essay,  namely, 
that  imitation  in  art  does  not  suffice  because,  in  addition 
to  it,  there  must  be  an  expression  of  thought  or  feeling. 
The  object  in  view  in  making  these  quotations,  however, 
has  not  been  merely  to  confirm  what  has  been  said 
hitherto,  but  to  furnish  a  trustworthy  beginning  for  that 
advance  in  thought  promised  at  the  opening  of  the 
chapter.  The  question  before  us  is,  whether  it  is  possible 
to  state  in  a  single  proposition  exactly  what  that  is,  in  all 
cases,  which,  according  to  the  acknowledgment  of  the 
best  authorities,  is  neither  merely  an  imitation  nor  merely 
an  expression.  In  order  to  attain  our  end,  let  us  go  back 
and  examine  once  more  the  words  of  Dr.  Haweis.  He 
says  that  imitation  is  not  sufficient  because  the  reproduc- 
tion of  sounds  like  those  of  the  lark,  the  wind,  or  the 
nightingale  is  not  accompanied  by  a  blue  sky,  romance, 
or  a  veil  of  darkness.     By  this  he  means  that  they  are 


ART-FORMS  AS  REPRESENTING  NATURAL   FORMS.       4 1 

not  accompanied  by  that  which  recalls,  in  connection 
with  them,  the  associations  of  nature.  But  what  are 
these  associations,  and  how  can  they  be  recalled  ?  Are 
they  other  forms  which,  for  a  satisfactory  effect,  need  to 
be  imitated  in  addition  to  those  that  are  imitated  ?  How 
could  one  imitate,  in  connection  with  a  whistle,  a  blue 
sky,  or  romance,  or  night  ?  A  blue  sky  might  be  imitated 
by  passing  from  the  element  of  sound  to  that  of  sight, 
and  producing  a  picture  ;  but,  even  then,  and  still  more 
in  the  cases  of  romance  and  night,  the  association  could 
not  be  reproduced  except  indirectly  through  an  appeal  to 
the  mind.  What  is  needed  is  an  association  of  ideaSy  in 
other  words,  an  appeal  to  thought  or  feeling  in  connec- 
tion with  the  appeal  (not  lacking  in  the  imitation)  to 
the  ear. 

How  can  we  describe,  in  general  terms,  applicable  in 
all  special  cases,  this  condition,  in  which  there  is  needed 
an  additional  appeal  to  thought  or  feeling?  How  better 
than  by  saying  that  mere  imitation  is  not  satisfactory, 
because,  notwithstanding  it,  the  effects  of  nature  upon  the 
mind  are  not  reproduced.  Art  is  the  work  of  a  man 
possessing  more  than  merely  physical  senses.  The  reason 
why  he  desires  at  all  to  construct  an  art-form,  is  because 
natural  forms  have  produced  an  effect  upon  his  mind. 
And  it  is  this  effect  that  he  wishes  to  reproduce.  If  he 
can  do  it  by  mere  imitation,  well  and  good  ;  but  there 
are  many  cases  in  which  he  cannot  do  it  thus.  Yet  even 
then,  even  in  poetry,  in  which,  as  shown  in  the  quotation 
from  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  the  imitative  element  is  often 
very  slight,  who  can  fail  to  perceive  that,  as  in  the 
"  Voices  of  the  Night  "  of  Longfellow,  or  the  tragedies  of 
Shakespeare,  the  effects  of  nature  upon  the  mind  may  be 
reproduced  ;  that  the  reader  or  hearer  feels  sad  or  joyous, 


42  ART  IN   THEORY, 

weeps  or  laughs,  precisely  as  he  would,  were  he,  in  natural 
life,  to  experience  the  actual  moods  or  perceive  the  actual 
events  imaginatively  presented  to  his  contemplation  ?  A 
similar  principle  evidently  applies  also  to  the  products  of 
painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture.  When  we  say  that 
it  is  the  work  of  art  to  reproduce  the  effects  of  nature  as 
exerted  through  eye  or  ear  upon  the  mmd^  there  is  no  doubt 
that  we  have  put  into  a  single  phrase  that  which,  at  once, 
renders  it  impossible  to  exclude  from  consideration  either 
imitation  or  expression,  and  at  the  same  time  makes  it 
imperative  to  include  something  of  both,  no  matter  how 
much  literalness  of  meaning  we  apply  to  either. 

The  effects  of  nature  as  exerted  through  eye  or  ear  upon 
the  mind  being  the  material  of  art  what  is  its  method  ?  For 
we  must  not  forget  that  to  find  this  latter  is  the  chief  ob- 
ject of  our  present  inquiry.  Let  us  notice  if  there  be  any 
term  in  our  language  which,  according  to  etymology  and 
conventional  usage,  can  always  be  employed  to  designate 
this  method,  even  though  applied  with  as  much  apparent 
difference  as  in  music  and  in  portraiture?  If  there  be 
such  a  term,  it  is  evident  that  to  use  it  will  contribute 
greatly  to  clear  thinking  upon  this  subject.  There  is 
such  a  term.  It  is  the  word  represent^  meaning  in  its 
verbal  form  "  to  present  again,'*  which  is  precisely  what 
the  artist  does  with  the  forms  presented  for  his  use  by 
nature.  To  represent,  moreover,  means,  according  to 
Webster,  "  to  present  again  either  by  image,  by  action, 
by  symbol,  or  by  substitute,"  and  there  is  no  possible 
method  of  reproducing  natural  forms  in  art  that  cannot 
be  included  under  one  of  these  heads.  An  orchestral 
passage  in  an  opera,  or  a  declamatory  scene  in  a  drama, 
does  not,  strictly  speaking,  copy  or  imitate,  but  it  does 
represent  an  exchange  of  thought  between  a  demi-god 


ART-FORMS  AS  REPRESENTING  NATURAL   FORMS.       43 

and  a  forest  bird,  as  in  Wagner's  "  Siegfried,"  or  a  con- 
versation between  historic  characters  as  in  Shakespeare's 
"  Henry  the  Eighth."  A  painting  of  a  man  on  canvas, 
or  a  statue  of  him  in  marble,  does  not,  strictly  speak- 
ing, copy  or  imitate  a  man,  who,  actually  considered, 
could  be  neither  flat  nor  white ;  but  it  does  represeyit 
him.  Columns,  arches,  and  roofs  do  not,  by  any  means, 
copy  or  imitate,  but  they  do  represent  the  trunks  and 
branches  and  water-shedding  leaves  of  the  forest. 
Nothing  in  fact  that  a  man  can  make  of  the  materials 
at  his  disposal  can,  strictly  speaking,  copy  or  imitate  in 
all  its  features  that  which  is  found  in  nature ;  but  he  can 
always  represent  this. 

It  is  precisely  for  this  reason,  too,  because  art  does 
and  can  represent,  and  does  not  and  need  not  literally 
imitate,  that  the  faculty  through  which  it  exerts  its  chief 
influence  upon  the  mind,  as  has  been  so  often  observed 
but  seldom  explained,  is  the  imagination.  A  literal 
imitation,  leaving  nothing  for  the  imagination  to  do, 
does  not  stimulate  its  action.  Whistles  or  bells  in  music  ; 
common-place  phrases  or  actions  in  poetry ;  and  indis- 
criminate particularities  of  detail  in  the  work  of  pencil, 
brush,  or  chisel,  usually  produce  disenchanting  effects 
entirely  aside  from  those  that  we  feel  to  be  legitimate  to 
art.  This  is  largely  because  the  artist,  in  such  cases,  has 
forgotten  that  his  object  is  not  to  imitate  but  to  repre- 
sent. It  is  well  to  observe  here,  too,  that  an  effect, 
appealing  primarily  to  the  imagination,  necessarily  passes 
through  it  into  all  the  faculties  of  mind ;  and  therefore 
that  the  distinctive  interest  awakened  in  them  all  by 
works  of  art  is  really  due  to  that  which  affects  first  the 
imagination. 

The  fact  that  art  represents  explains,  too,  in  part  at 


44  ART  IN    THEORY, 

least,  the  sympathetic  interest  awakened  by  its  products, 
an  interest  often  noticed  and  as  often  deemed  essential. 
To  what  can  this  with  better  reason  be  attributed  than 
to  a  recognition  of  the  difficulties  overcome — as  must 
always  be  the  case  where  a  form  of  presentation  is 
changed — when  producing  in  one  medium  effects  that 
appear  in  nature  in  another,  and  to  a  consequent  ap- 
preciation of  the  particular  originality  and  skill  of  the 
individual  artist  who  has  overcome  such  difficulties? 

To  apply  these  statements  to  the  different  arts,  it  is 
mainly  owing  to  a  lack  of  all  appeal  to  the  imagination 
or  the  sympathies,  that  accurate  imitations  of  the  sounds 
that  come  from  birds,  beasts,  winds,  and  waters  fail  to 
affect  us  as  do  notes  which  are  recognized  to  be  produced 
by  wind  and  stringed  instruments  in  the  passages  descrip- 
tive of  the  influence  of  a  forest,  in  Wagner's  opera  of 
''  Siegfried,"  or  in  the  '^  Pastoral  Symphonies  "  of  Handel 
and  Beethoven.  Nor  do  any  number  of  tones  imitating 
exactly  the  expressions  of  love,  grief,  or  fright  compare, 
in  their  influence  upon  us,  with  the  representations  of  the 
same  in  the  combined  vocal  and  instrumental  melodies 
and  harmonies  of  love  songs,  dirges,  and  tragic  operas. 
The  truth  of  this  may  be  more  readily  conceded  in  an 
art,  like  music,  perhaps,  than  in  some  of  the  other  arts ; 
for  in  it  the  imitative  elements  are  acknowledged  to  be 
at  a  minimum.  To  such  an  extent  is  this  the  case,  in 
fact,  that  some  have  declared  it  to  be  presentative  rather 
than  representative y  not  recognizing  that  a  use  of  the  ele- 
ments of  duration^  force, pitch,  and  quality,  such  as  enables 
us  to  distinguish  between  a  love-song,  a  dirge,  and  a  tragic 
passage,  would  altogether  fail  to  convey  their  meaning, 
unless  there  were  something  in  the  movement  to  represent 
ideas  or  emotions  which  we  were  accustomed  to  associate 


ART-FORMS  AS  REPRESENTING  NATURAL   FORMS.       45 

with  similar  movements  as  they  are  presented  in  nature, 
especially  as  they  are  presented  in  natural  speech. 

But  how,  it  may  be  asked,  is  it  with  poetry  ?  Is  it  true 
that  our  interest  in  this  art  is  owing  to  the  representation 
in  it  ?  Why  not  ?  Figurative  language  that  calls  up  to 
imagination  scenes  that  are  described,  is  not  necessarily 
imitative  but  it  always  is  representative  ;  and  an  imitation, 
so  exact  apparently  that  we  should  think  it  written  down 
within  hearing,  of  the  ravings  of  a  mad  king,  or  of 
lamentations  at  the  loss  of  a  friend,  would  not  appeal  to 
us  like  what  we  know  to  be  merely  representations  of 
these  in  the  blank  verse  of  Shakespeare's  ''  King  Lear," 
or  in  the  rhyming  verse  of  Tennyson's  ''  In  Memoriam." 
The  talk  of  the  phonograph  will  never  be  an  acceptable 
substitute  for  the  soliloquy  or  dialogue  of  the  artistic 
drama  or  novel. 

A  like  fact  is  true  of  the  photograph.  For  the  very 
reason  that  it  is  an  imitation,  in  the  sense  of  being  a 
literal  presentation,  of  every  outline  on  which  the  light 
at  the  time  when  it  was  taken  happened  to  fall,  it  does 
not  awaken  in  us  the  kind  or  degree  of  imaginative  in- 
terest or  of  sympathy  that  we  feel  in  paintings  or  statues. 
Unlike  the  impressions  that  we  receive  from  the  photo- 
graph, in  gazing  at  these  latter,  we  feel  that  we  are  look- 
ing through  an  artist's  eye,  seeing  only  what  he  saw  or 
thought  fit  for  us  to  see,  and  that  everything  in  them  is 
traceable  to  the  skill  displayed  by  him  in  transferring 
what  in  nature  is  presented  in  one  medium  into  another, 
as  in  delineating  flesh  and  foliage  through  the  use  of 
color  and  in  turning  veins  and  lace  into  marble.  The 
same  principle  applies  in  architecture.  The  man  of  the 
backwoods  who  came  to  an  early  centre  of  civilization, 
and  stood  before  the  first  stone  colonnade  that  he  had 


46  ART  IN   THEORY. 

seen,  was  not  charmed  with  it  because  it  Imitated  so 
exactly  the  row  of  poles  that  supported  the  projecting 
eaves  of  the  huts  which  for  centuries  had  been  constructed 
by  his  ancestors ;  his  delight  was  owing  to  the  fact  of  his 
perceiving  in  another  material,  exceedingly  difficult  to 
work,  that  which  represented  the  forms  presented  to  his 
view  at  home. 

In  fact  of  whatever  art  we  may  be  speaking,  it  will  not 
do  to  say  that  its  sole  aim  is  to  imitate  nature,  not  even, 
putting  it  in  a  milder  form,  that  it  is  to  reproduce  the 
appearances  of  nature.  Few  would  surmise  this  aim  in 
the  case  of  either  music,  poetry,  or  architecture  ;  and  in 
the  quotations  from  artists  and  art-critics  at  the  opening 
of  the  chapter,  it  was  shown  that,  in  their  opinion,  such 
is  not  the  aim  primarily  in  either  painting  or  sculpture. 
The  most  that  can  be  said  with  truth,  is  that  the  forms 
of  nature  are  reproduced  by  the  artist  with  the  aim  of 
having  them  appear  to  others  as  they  have  appeared  to 
himself,  as  they  have  exerted  an  effect  upon  his  mind,  as 
they  have  influenced  his  thoughts  and  feelings.  Of 
course,  in  order  to  accomplish  this  aim  merely,  he  must 
represent  the  appearances  so  as  to  recall  their  state  in 
nature,  and,  where  imitation  is  demanded,  he  must  imi- 
tate with  accuracy.  But  he  would  be  the  last  in  the 
world  to  acknowledge  that  he  has  added  to  his  work 
nothing  originated  in  his  own  brain,  and  that  what  he  has 
produced  is  a  simple  reproduction.  He  considers  it  a 
representation. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ART-FORMS  AS  REPRESENTING  RATHER  THAN  COMMUNI- 
CATING THOUGHT  AND  FEELING. 

The  Second  Requirement  of  Art — The  Materials  of  Artistic  Expression — 
The  End  of  it  not  to  Communicate  Thought  or  Feeling — Distinct  Com- 
munication Lacks  the  Reproduction  of  Effects  of  Nature  which  Art 
Needs — Art  Emphasizes  the  Natural  Factors  Used  in  Expression — 
Elaboration  of  Art-Forms  Necessitates  Repetition — These  Constructed 
by  Repeating  Like  Effects  in  Music — Poetry — Painting,  Sculpture, 
and  Architecture — Repetition  Involves  Representation — As  Does  aU 
Expression,  whether  Thought  Comes  from  without  the  Mind — Or 
from  within  it — Representation  the  Method  of  the  Higher  Arts — These 
Represent  the  Effects  of  Nature  upon  the  Mind  and  also  of  the 
Mind  upon  Nature — Connection  between  this  Latter  Fact  and  the 
Expression  in  Art  of  Imagination — And  of  Personality — Why  Art 
Elaborates  Expressional  Methods — Artistic  Uses  of  Nature  as  Reveal- 
ing Personality  and  Suggesting  God — Art  Creative — Possibly  so  in  a 
very  Deep  Sense — The  Divine  Faculty. 

IVrOW  let  US  examine  the  second  requirement  of  art, 
namely,  that  it  should  be  expressive^  by  which 
is  meant  here  that  it  should  be  a  means  of  communi- 
cating thought  and  feeling.  What  is  the  character  of 
artistic  expression  ?  or,  to  divide  the  question,  in  order 
to  answer  it  satisfactorily,  what  are  the  materials  used 
in  this  expression,  and  how  are  they  used  ? 

The  materials  need  not  detain  us  long.  As  shown  in 
Chapter  II.,  the  germs  of  them  all  are  furnished  by  cer- 
tain of  the  possibilities  of  voice  and  action,  through  which 
men  naturally  manifest  to  their  fellows  that  with  which 

47 


48  ART  IN   THEORY. 

their  minds  are  occupied.  These  possibilities,  too,  before 
being  adapted  to  the  purposes  of  art,  have  already  been 
developed  as  in  intonation,  language,  drawing,  coloring, 
stone-cutting,  and  house-building.  Evidently,  it  is  the 
difference  in  method  between  that  which  produces  these 
latter  and  that  which  produces  the  higher  results  of  art, 
that  we  are  to  try  to  discover  in  this  chapter. 

Every  method  is  a  means  to  an  end  ;  for  which  reason 
we  can  never  come  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion  with  refer- 
ence to  a  method  until  we  have  exactly  determined  its 
end.  As  related  to  the  fact  that  the  higher  arts  are 
human  we  have  found  that  they  involve  a  communication 
of  thought  or  feeling.  But  is  it  true,  in  any  sense,  that 
their  object  or  chief  object  is  to  communicate  this,  even 
though  it  be  done  not  in  an  ordinary  manner,  but  in  one 
so  effective  that  it  may  be  termed  extraordinary  ?  Let  us 
answer  this  question  in  a  practical  way,  by  applying  it  to 
each  of  the  arts.  If  the  communication  of  thought  or 
feeling  be  their  chief  object,  they  ought  to  attain  this 
object  better  than  does  any  other  form  of  expression  that 
is  not  so  artistic.  Do  they  ?  Do  poetry,  painting,  and 
sculpture,  to  say  nothing  of  music  and  architecture,  which 
all  men  know  to  be  very  deficient  in  ability  to  convey 
definite  information  of  any  kind — do  poetry,  painting,  and 
sculpture  give  a  more  satisfactory  expression  to  thought 
or  feeling,  in  the  sense  of  indicating  more  clearly  exactly 
what  a  particular  thought  or  feeling  is,  than  do  sounds 
and  sights  as  they  are  used  in  ordinary  speech  and  writ- 
ing ?  The  moment  we  ask  the  question,  we  are  ready  to 
answer.  No.  A  frequent  effect  of  making  any  method  of 
communication  more  artistic  is  to  make  it  less  intelligible ; 
and  probably  no  form  of  art  is  ever  quite  so  easy  to 
understand  as  the  unelaborated  form  of  natural  expression 


A  R  T.FOR  M  S  RE  PRE  SEN  TING  THO  UGH  T  A  ND  FEELING.  49 

from  which  it  is  developed.  As  a  rule,  sighs,  laughs, 
shrieks,  wails,  can  communicate,  and  cause  a  listener  to 
realize,  too,  the  particular  thought  or  feeling  to  which  they 
give  expression  far  more  unmistakably  than  is  possible 
for  a  musical  passage,  unaccompanied  by  words,  whatever 
may  be  the  amount  of  its  hush,  trill,  force,  or  pathos.  As 
a  rule,  a  plain,  direct  utterance  of  sentiment,  or  statement 
of  fact,  is  far  more  readily  apprehended,  if  that  be  all  that 
is  desired,  than  the  most  imaginative  effort  of  poetry.  As 
a  rule,  a  few  objects  carelessly  but  clearly  drawn  or  carved, 
even  if  as  rudely  as  in  an  ancient  hieroglyph — a  few  tree- 
trunks  roughly  built  together  for  support  and  shelter,  can 
convey  intelligence  of  their  purpose  much  more  distinctly 
than  works  of  painting  or  sculpture  or  architecture  upon 
which  men  have  expended  years  of  labor.  Were  the 
communication  of  thought  or  feeling  the  object  of  art,  it 
would  be  a  very  senseless  undertaking  to  try  to  attain  this 
object  and  expend  years  of  labor  upon  it  by  making  the 
forms  of  communication  from  which  art  is  developed  less 
communicative. 

Yet,  evidently,  these  forms  of  natural  expression — intona- 
tion, speech,  drawing,  coloring,  constructing, — just  at  the 
point  where  most  satisfactory  as  means  of  communicating 
thought  and  feeling,  lack  something  that  art  needs.  What 
is  this?  It  is  not  difficult  to  tell,  and  is  clearly  suggested 
by  all  that  has  been  unfolded  thus  far  in  this  essay.  They 
lack  that  which  can  be  given,  in  connection  with  expres- 
sion, by  the  reproduction  of  the  effects  of  nature.  Pen- 
manship and  hieroglyphics  lack  the  appearances  of  nature 
that  are  copied  in  painting  and  sculpture.  Prose  lacks 
the  figures  of  speech  and  descriptions  that  in  poetry  are 
constantly  pointing  attention  to  the  same  appearances ; 
and,  as  shown  in  the  last  chapter,  even  the  elements  sub- 


50  ART  IN   THEORY. 

sequently  developed  into  music  and  architecture  lack 
traces  of  a  very  keen  observation  and  extensive  use  of 
effects  in  nature  which  would  not  need  to  be  observed  or 
used  at  all,  were  the  end  in  view  attainable  by  the  mere 
communication  of  thought  or  feeling.  Were  communica- 
tion the  object  of  effort,  the  elaboration  of  the  forms  of 
nature  would  cease  at  the  point  where  it  became  sufficient 
for  this  purpose.  Indeed,  as  Hegel  says,  according  to  J. 
S.  Kedney's  translation  in  his  "  Critical  Exposition  "  of 
that  philosopher's  "■  ^Esthetics,"  the  form  of  art  is  mere 
"  surplusage  if  its  mission  is  only  to  teach,  and  all  the 
delight  we  receive  from  art-representations  might  as  well 
be  missed." 

These  facts  confirm  what  has  been  said  hitherto  with 
reference  to  the  two  requirements  of  art  ;  but,  as  in  the 
last  chapter  so  here,  that  which  we  wish  to  do  is  to  find 
a  single  proposition  stating  exactly  what,  in  all  cases,  that 
method  is  which  involves  neither  merely  the  one  nor 
the  other.  The  last  paragraph  shows  us  that  expression 
in  art  differs  from  ordinary  forms  of  expression  in  the 
emphasis  given  to  the  effects  of  nature,  as  factors  of  the 
expressional  form.  All  expression,  in  order  to  be  what 
it  is,  in  order  to  convey  audible  and  visible  information 
of  inaudible  and  invisible  thought  and  feeling,  neces- 
sitates a  use  of  the  sights  and  sounds  furnished  by  nature. 
Only  art  emphasizes  this  use  of  them.  Notice  that,  in 
doing  so,  art  does  not  emphasize  the  thought  and  feeling 
in  themselves  ;  and  this  is  the  reason  why  it  is  not  solely 
an  expression  of  these.  What  art  emphasizes  is  the  use 
that  by  way  of  development  is  made  of  the  factors  of  ex- 
pression. What  music  emphasizes,  for  instance,  grows  out 
of  the  possibilities  of  rhythm,  melody,  and  harmony  in 
sound ;  what  poetry  emphasizes,  grows  out  of  the  possi- 


AR  T-FORMS  REPRESENTING  THO  UGH T  AND  FEELING.  5 1 

bilities  of  rhythm,  figurative  language,  description,  and 
characterization  ;  what  painting  and  sculpture  emphasize, 
grows  out  of  the  possibilities  of  outline,  color,  pose,  and 
situation  ;  what  architecture  emphasizes,  grows  out  of  the 
possibilities  of  support,  shelter,  strength,  and  elevation. 
In  short,  what  all  art  emphasizes  in  expression,  is  not  the 
thought  and  feeling  of  it,  but  the  effect  which  the  thought 
and  feeling  have  had  upon  the  factors  of  it  ;  in  other 
words,  the  effect  that  the  mind  has  had  upon  the  appear- 
ances  of  nature. 

Now,  waiving,  for  a  little,  any  questions  that  may  be 
suggested  inquiring  into  reasons,  let  us  accept  the  fact 
merely  as  a  fact,  and  notice  the  method  necessitated  on 
the  part  of  the  artist.  This  is  universally  and  inevitably 
the  same.  Inasmuch  as  every  form  employed  in  art  is 
chosen  because  it  is  a  natural  mode  of  human  expression, 
having  a  recognized  meaning,  it  is  impossible  for  the  artist 
to  change  the  form  essentially.  If  changed,  the  form 
would  not  continue  to  convey  the  same  significance  in  art 
that  it  conveyed  in  the  natural  mode  of  expression  which 
occasioned  his  selection  of  the  form.  And  yet,  to  make 
the  form  artistic,  he  must,  in  some  way,  work  over  it,  labor 
with  it,  elaborate  it,  as  is  said.  The  only  way  of  elabo- 
rating it  without  changing  its  effect  upon  the  mind,  is  to 
cause  whatever  is  added  to  repeat  the  general  effect  of 
that  to  which  it  is  added.  Only  in  the  degree  in  which 
this  is  done,  will  the  elaborated  form  as  a  whole  have 
the  same  significance  that  its  germ  had  before  it  was 
elaborated. 

Bearing  in  mind  this  plain  deduction  from  first  prin- 
ciples, we  shall  not  be  surprised  to  find  that  the  one 
method  of  composition  common  to  all  the  arts  is  to 
group  about  the  form  that  is  first  selected  as  a  nucleus 


52  ART  IN    THEORY. 

of  expression,  other  forms  that  are  like  it,  or  if,  in  order 
to  prevent  monotony,  slightly  changed,  are  at  least  allied 
to  it.  In  other  words,  the  method  of  art-composition  is, 
above  all  else,  a  method  of  repeating  effects.  To  illus- 
trate this  statement,  look  first  at  music ;  and,  to  begin 
with,  take  those  forms  of  it  which  seem  constructed  the 
most  arbitrarily.  What  is  rhythm  or  metre  ?  Nothing 
but  a  development  of  sounds  based  upon  a  repetition  of 
similar  intervals  of  time  in  notes  and  rests.  What, 
wherever  found,  or  however  varied,  is  the  musical  scale 
that  conditions  all  our  present  systems  of  melody  and 
harmony?  Nothing,  as  might  be  shown,  but  a  repetition 
and  emphasizing  of  the  possibilities  of  pitch  already  ex- 
isting in  compounds  of  the  tone  that  forms  the  keynote. 
But  to  pass  to  a  region  where  the  underlying  facts  are 
better  understood,  how  is  a  song  or  a  symphony  that  is 
expressive  of  any  given  feeling,  composed  ?  Always 
thus :  a  certain  duration,  force,  pitch,  or  quality,  of  voice, 
varied  two  or  three  times,  is  recognized  to  be  a  natural 
form  of  expression  for  a  certain  state  of  mind, — satis- 
faction, grief,  ecstasy,  fright,  as  the  case  may  be.  A 
musician  takes  this  form  of  sound,  and  adds  to  it  other 
forms  that  in  rhythm  or  modulation  or  both,  repeat  it,  or 
vary  it  in  such  subordinate  ways  as  constantly  to  suggest 
it ;  and  thus  he  elaborates  a  song  expressive  of  satisfac- 
tion, grief,  ecstasy,  or  fright.  Or  if  it  be  a  symphony, 
the  method  is  the  same.  The  whole,  intricate  as  it  may 
appear,  is  developed  by  repetitions  of  the  same  effects, 
varied  almost  infinitely  but  in  such  ways  as  constantly  to 
suggest  a  few  notes  or  chords  which  form  the  theme  or 
themes. 

Look,   again,  at  the  method  underlying  construction 
in  poetic  form,     What  are  rhythm,  verse,  metre,  rhyme, 


A  R  T-FORMS  REP  RE  SEN  TING  THO  UGHT  AND  FEELING.  5  3 

alliteration,  assonance  ?  Nothing  but  repetitions  of  the 
same  effects  of  sound,  obtained  by  putting  like  with  like. 
What  is  the  method  underlying  construction  in  poetic 
thought  ?  Nothing  but  a  repetition  of  the  same  particu- 
lar or  general  idea  in  different  phraseology  or  figures, 
e.  g,  : 

And  what  is  music  then  ?     Then  music  is 
Even  as  the  flourish  when  true  subjects  bow 
To  a  new-crowned  monarch  ;  such  it  is, 
As  are  those  dulcet  sounds  in  break  of  day, 
That  creep  into  the  dreaming  bridegroom's  ear, 
And  summon  him  to  marriage. 

Merchant  of  Venice ^  iii.,  ii. — Shakespeare. 

Brutus  and  Caesar  :  what  should  be  in  that  Caesar  ? 
Why  should  that  name  be  sounded  more  than  yours  ? 
Write  them  together,  yours  is  as  fair  a  name  ; 
Sound  them,  it  doth  become  the  mouth  as  well  ; 
Weigh  them,  it  is  as  heavy  ;  conjure  with  them, 
"  Brutus  "  will  start  a  spirit  as  soon  as  "Caesar." 

jfulius  Ccesar,  i.,  ii — Idem. 

'T  is  not  alone  my  inky  cloak,  good  mother, 
Nor  customary  suits  of  solemn  black. 
Nor  windy  suspiration  of  forced  breath  ; 
No,  nor  the  fruitful  river  in  the  eye, 
Nor  the  dejected  haviour  of  the  visage 
Together  with  all  forms,  modes,  shows  of  grief. 
That  can  denote  me  truly. 

Hamlet,  i,,  ii. — Idem. 

Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseased  ; 
Pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow  ; 
Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain  ; 
And  with  some  sweet  oblivious  antidote 
Cleanse  the  stuff'd  bosom  of  that  perilous  stuff 
Which  weighs  upon  the  heart  ? 

Macbeth,  v.,  iii. — Idem. 


54  ART  IN   THEORY, 

What,  too,  is  poetic  treatment  of  a  subject  as  a  whole  in 
an  epic  or  a  drama  ?  Nothing  but  the  repeated  dehnea- 
tion  of  the  same  general  conception  or  character  as  mani- 
fested or  developed  amid  different  surroundings  of  time 
or  place. 

How  now  are  the  forms  of  painting,  sculpture,  and 
architecture  composed  ?  Every  one  knows  that,  as  a  rule, 
certain  like  lines,  arches,  or  angles  are  repeated  in  the 
columns,  cornices,  doors,  windows,  and  roofs  of  buildings. 
Few,  perhaps,  without  instruction,  recognize  that  the 
same  principle  is  true  as  applied  to  both  the  outlines  and 
colors  through  which  art  delineates  the  scenery  of  land 
or  water  or  the  limbs  of  living  creatures.  But  one  thing 
none  fail  to  recognize  :  this  is  that,  in  the  highest  works 
of  art,  every  special  effect  repeats,  as  a  rule,  the  general 
effect.  In  the  picture  of  a  storm,  for  instance,  every 
cloud,  wave,  leaf,  bough,  repeats,  as  a  rule,  the  storm's 
effect ;  in  the  statue  of  a  sufferer,  every  muscle  in  the 
face  or  form  repeats,  as  a  rule,  the  suffering's  effect ;  in 
the  architecture  of  a  building — if  of  a  single  style — every 
window,  door,  and  dome  repeats,  as  a  rule,  the  style's 
effect. 

To  extend  this  subject  here  would  be  to  anticipate 
what  is  to  follow.  It  suffices  to  say  again  that  the 
method  in  which  art  elaborates  a  natural  form  of  expres- 
sion without  changing  its  meaning  is  to  repeat  it  with,  of 
course,  any  amount  of  variety  consistent  with  this.  But 
now,  what  is  a  form  of  expressing  thought  and  feeling,  as 
it  appears  in  nature,  but  a  method  of  presenting  these? 
And  what  is  a  repetition  of  the  form  but  a  method  of 
re-presenting  them  ?  In  fact,  while  it  is  not  true,  in  all 
cases,  that  there  is  literal  repetition, — for,  as  has  been  inti- 
mated all  along,  and  will  be  brought  out  more  clearly  in 


ART-FORMS  REPRESENTING  THOUGHT  AND  FEELING.  55 

another  place,  effects  are  often  greatly  varied — it  is  true, 
in  all  cases,  that  the  natural  form  of  expression  is  literally 
represented.  To  represent,  both  according  to  etymology 
and  to  conventional  usage,  means, — to  quote  from  Web- 
ster again, — "  to  present  a  second  time  by  a  transcript 
what  was  originally  presented  to  the  mind."  This  is  ex- 
actly what  is  done  when  forms  of  expression  are  repeated 
with  the  effect  of  repeating  that  which  is  expressed 
through  them. 

The  possibility  of  this  kind  of  representation  exists,  of 
course,  in  the  very  nature  of  all  expression.  Otherwise 
there  could  be  no  artistic  development  of  it.  The  fact 
of  the  existence  of  this  possibility  is  evident  the  moment 
that  we  consider  the  sources  of  the  thought  or  feeling 
which  a  man  expresses.  These  are  either  outside  of  his 
mind  or  inside  of  it.  If  they  be  outside  of  it,  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  come  from  what  we  mean  in  this 
essay  by  nature.  But  if  they  come  from  this,  they  are 
suggested  to  him  by  a  form  of  nature,  and  if  he  wish  to 
communicate  them  to  others,  to  accomplish  his  object  he 
must  use  this  form.  If  he  be  thinking  or  feeling  about  a 
sound  or  sight,  he  must  refer  to  this  sound  or  sight ;  and, 
in  order  to  express  his  thoughts  or  feelings  concerning  it, 
he  must  do  something  with  it  in  the  way  of  reshaping, 
rearranging,  or  recombining  it.  In  other  words,  in  order 
to  use  nature  so  as  to  express  thought  and  feeling,  he 
must  not  present  it  as  he  finds  it,  but  re-present  it. 

Suppose,  however,  that  the  sources  of  the  thought  or 
feeling  to  which  he  wishes  to  give  utterance  lie  within 
his  mind.  How  must  he  express  them  then  ?  He  cannot 
do  it  at  all  except  by  making  an  appeal  to  the  eye  or  ear, 
or  to  some  other  of  the  outward  senses  of  those  whom  he 
wishes  to  address.      But  there  is  nothing  in  thought  and 


5^  ART  IN   THEORY. 

feeling  as  they  exist  in  the  mind  capable  of  making  such 
an  appeal.  They  are  beyond  the  apprehension  of  the 
senses.  They  are  immaterial,  and  cannot  be  presented 
directly  through  a  material  medium.  They  must  there- 
fore be  presented  indirectly.    They  must  be  re-presented. 

But  while  all  expression  is  thus  representative,  only 
that  which  is  elaborated,  in  the  ways  explained  in  this 
chapter,  for  the  distinctive  purpose  of  representation  can 
rightly  be  termed  representative  by  way  of  distinction. 

It  was  noticed  in  the  last  chapter  that  to  represent^ 
meaning  to  preseftt  agam  by  image,  by  action,  by  symbol, 
or  by  substitute,  indicates  accurately  what  the  artist  does 
in  all  cases  in  which,  in  accordance  with  the  first  require- 
ment of  art,  he  reproduces  the  appearances  of  nature.  Now 
we  find  that  the  same  word  indicates  accurately  what  he 
does  in  all  cases  in  which,  in  accordance  with  the  second 
requirement,  he  uses  these  forms  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
pressing thought  and  feeling.  The  word  represeftt,  there- 
fore, is  a  term  applicable  to  the  action  of  his  mind  when 
fulfilling  both  requirements.  Moreover,  when  we  recall 
that  we  have  found,  in  addition  to  this,  that  what  is 
represented  in  accordance  with  the  first  requirement  is 
the  effects  of  nature  upon  the  fnind ;  and,  in  accordance 
with  the  second  requirement,  is  the  effects  of  the  mind  tipon 
yiature^  we  have  suggested  to  us  by  each  of  the  terms, 
represejitation  and  effects^  a  sense  in  which  both  require- 
ments of  art,  though  apparently  necessitating  ends  and 
methods  distinct  and  different,  really  necessitate  one  and 
the  same  thing.  Is  it  not  a  clear  deduction  from  what  has 
been  said  up  to  this  point  that  art  represents  the  recipro- 
cal effects  of  nature  and  of  mind?  The  word  effects,  as 
thus  used,  including,  as  it  does,  all  natural  influences, 
however  utilitarian    or    ugly,  needs   to    be  limited  in  its 


ART-FORMS  REPRESENTING  THOUGHT  AND  FEELING.  5/ 

application  before  it  can  be  applied  to  the  higher  arts. 
Nevertheless,  the  statement,  on  the  whole,  is  plainly  in 
advance  of  any  at  which  we  have  yet  arrived. 

Nor  is  the  general  agreement  between  the  thought  in 
this  chapter  and  in  the  last  manifested  by  merely  the 
use  of  the  words  representation  and  effects.  The  connec- 
tion was  pointed  out  there  between  the  method  of  repre- 
sentation and  the  appeal  of  art  to  the  mind  through 
imagination  and  sympathy.  Notice  now  the  connection 
between  this  same  method  and  an  exercise  of  such  powers 
of  mind  on  the  part  of  the  artist  as  necessitate  such  an 
appeal.  Like  stream  like  source  :  that  which  appeals  to 
imagination  is  most  certain  to  do  so  in  the  degree  in 
which  it  springs  from  imagination.  What  is  the  faculty 
of  mind  from  which  springs  the  kind  of  repetition  de- 
veloped in  art  when  elaborated  in  accordance  with  the 
principle  of  representation.  What  is  it  but  the  imagina- 
tion, the  faculty  which  has  to  do  with  the  imaging  of  one 
thing  in  or  by  another?  In  an  art-product,  forms  are 
grouped  together  because  imagination  perceives  that  they 
are  alike  or  allied,  in  other  words  that  they  compare, 
either  exactly  or  very  nearly.  If,  for  the  sake  of  variety, 
a  few  subordinate  features  are  introduced  of  which  this  is 
not  true,  even  then  the  clearest  possible  consciousness 
that  comparison  is  the  process  and  that  these  features  are 
exceptional,  is  manifested  by  the  fact  that  they  are  ac- 
knowledged to  be  introduced  artistically  in  the  degree  in 
which  they  exactly  contrast  with  the  other  features.  But 
no  one  can  originate  or  recognize  a  contrast, — which  is  an 
effect  caused  by  agreement  in  many  features  but  disagree- 
ment in,  at  least,  one  feature, — except  as  a  result  of  com- 
parison, which  itself  is  merely  the  mode  of  procedure  of 
imagination. 

-I 


58  ART  IN   THEORY. 

Once  more,  besides  an  appeal  to  imagination,  a  work  of 
art,  as  shown  in  the  preceding  chapter,  involves  an  appeal  to 
sympathy.  Nothing  can  appeal  to  this  except  when  having 
its  source  in  personality.  Let  us  observe  then  in  what 
sense  the  fact  of  representation  necessitates  the  ascribing 
of  art  to  this  source.  It  has  been  said  that  upon  the 
elaboration  of  the  factors  expressing  thought  and  feeling 
an  artist  expends  much  labor  beyond  what  is  needed  in 
order  to  make  them  merely  express  these.  Let  us  ask  now 
upon  what  exactly  does  he  expend  this  labor?  Of  course 
it  must  be  upon  that  which  the  expression  contains  in 
addition  to  the  thought  and  feeling.  What  does  it  con- 
tain in  addition  to  these  ?  Nothing  more,  certainly,  than 
the  expressional  factors.  As  it  is  not  the  thought  and 
feeling,  it  must  be  the  expressional  factors  that  are  in- 
tended to  be  emphasized ;  and  when  we  recall  that  it  is 
the  expressional  factors  that  are  repeated  in  art,  and  that, 
as  a  rule,  repetition  necessarily  emphasizes,  we  shall  rec- 
ognize the  truth  of  this  inference.  But  why  should  ex- 
pressional factors,  aside  from  that  which  they  express,  be 
emphasized  ?  For  no  reason,  of  course,  except  to  empha- 
size the  fact  that  they  are  expressional,  which  fact,  as  will 
be  noticed,  is  unimportant  except  so  far  as  it  involves  the 
existence  of  something  behind  them,  i.  e.^  of  a  mind  capa- 
ble of  using  them  for  expression.  But  what  interest  has 
the  artist  in  manifesting,  or  the  world  in  knowing,  that 
certain  forms  of  nature  are  factors  used  for  the  purpose  of 
expression  by  a  mind  behind  them  ?  What  interest  has  a 
man  in  manifesting,  or  the  world  in  knowing,  that  behind 
any  appearances  of  nature  there  is  a  mind  ?  He  who  can 
answer  this,  will  find  a  reason  for  the  interest  that  men 
take  in  art,  either  as  producers  or  as  patrons. 

But  are  there  any  problems  of  life  of  interest  so  pro- 


ART-FORMS  REPRESENTING  THOUGHT  AND  FEELING.  50 

found  as  those  which  have  to  do  with  the  relations  of 
mind  to  matter?  Is  it  not  enough  to  say  that  mortals 
conscious  of  a  spirit  in  them  struggling  for  expression,  feel 
that  they  are  doing  what  becomes  them  when  they  give  this 
spirit  vent,  and  with  care  for  every  detail,  elaborate  the 
forms  in  which  they  give  it  this  ?  What  are  men  doing 
when  thus  moved  but  objectifying  their  inward  processes 
of  mind  ;  but  organizing  with  something  of  their  own  intel- 
ligence, but  animating  with  something  of  their  own  soul, 
the  scattered  and  lifeless  forms  that  are  about  them,  and 
infusing  into  their  product  something  of  the  same  spirit 
that  is  the  source  of  all  that  they  most  highly  prize  within 
their  own  material  bodies. 

Motives  like  these  are  facts  to  men,  not  fancies ;  and 
appeal  as  such  to  mankind.  It  is  because  such  motives 
exist  that  art,  aside  from  any  particular  thoughts  or  feel- 
ings that  it  may  express,  but  in  connection  with  them,  re- 
veals the  personality  of  the  artist,  and  therefore  is  addressed 
to  human  sympathy.  It  is  because  of  such  motives,  that 
the  Platonist  draws  the  inference  that,  if  the  forms  of  na- 
ture furnish  men  with  the  means  of  representing  to  others 
thoughts  and  feelings  and  themselves  as  well,  then  behind 
the  forms  of  nature,  too,  there  must  be  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings and  a  life  which  is  divine,  and  that  in  the  aspects  of 
these  forms  the  truths  concerning  the  divine  life  must  be 
revealed. 

In  our  second  chapter  it  was  said  that  the  arts  cannot 
create.  But  it  was  not  said  that  they  cannot  be  creative. 
If  by  the  creative  we  mean  the  power  which  seems 
to  represent  divine  intelligence  through  the  sights  and 
sounds  of  nature,  what  can  more  resemble  this  than  can  the 
power  of  him  who  makes  a  further  use  of  these  same  sights 
and  sounds  for  the  purpose,  through  them,  of  representing 


6o  ART  IN   THEORY. 

the  processes,  which  otherwise  could  not  be  manifested 
of  his  own  thoughts  and  feelings  ?  Is  it  strange  that  he 
should  take  delight  and  pride  in  work  like  this,  and  in 
connection  with  it  feel  the  sources  of  the  deepest  inspira- 
tion stir  within  him  ?  Who  is  there  that  could  not  draw 
delight  and  pride  and  inspiration  from  the  consciousness 
of  being  in  the  least  degree  a  follower,  an  imitator,  a  child 
of  Him  who  created  the  heavens  and  the  earth  ? 

There  may  be,  too,  a  deeper  reason  even  than  this  for 
that  which  moves  the  artist  to  his  task ;  a  deeper  reason 
even  than  Hegel  fathomed  when  in  his  "  Esthetics  "  he 
declared  that  *'  in  the  nature  of  man  itself  Art  finds  its 
necessary  origin."  In  the  midst  of  mere  dreams  the 
author  of  this  book,  with  clearest  consciousness  that  he 
was  dreaming,  has  applied,  with  others  who  appeared  to 
be  with  him,  tests,  scientific  in  their  way  or  enough  so 
for  the  purpose,  to  the  things  surrounding  him.  He  has 
struck  against  the  stones  of  pavements  and  of  walls,  and 
has  found  them  all  as  solid  as  in  actual  life.  Now  if  tests 
like  these  can  be  applied  in  a  dream,  which  subsequently 
proves  to  be  a  fabric  of  imagination  only,  why  may  they 
not  be  applied  in  waking  hours  to  things  called  actual,  yet 
prove  no  more  with  reference  to  reality  ?  What  though 
we  all,  when  not  insane,  agree  substantially  about  the 
character  of  these  surroundings  ?  This  may  not  prove  a 
thing  beyond  the  fact  that  the  spirits  of  us  all  are  under 
similar  subjection  to  the  same  conditions, — a  perfectly 
conceivable  result  of  a  spell  that  may  be  exercised  over 
us  by  some  superior  intelligence,  a  result  that  is  conceiva- 
ble, because  not  differing  essentially  from  that  with  which 
the  phenomena  of  hypnotism  have  or  could  have  made  us 
all  familiar. 

But  if  this  be  so,  if,  in  the  world  that  we  call  real,  our 


ART-FROMS  REPRESENTING  THOUGHT  AND  FEELING.  6 1 

spirits  be  in  prison,  then  in  the  world  ideal  of  art  in  which 
the  spirit  freely  conjures  forms  at  will,  there  may  be  an 
actual  and  not  a  fancied  exercise  of  that  which  men  in 
general,  not  knowing  why,  but  following,  as  so  often,  an 
unerring  instinct,  have  agreed  to  call  "  the  faculty  divine." 
At  least,  with  all  the  possibilities  suggested,  if  not  indicated, 
by  the  facts  that  are  beyond  dispute,  we  certainly  have 
no  necessity  for  asking  why  the  artist  should  desire  to  use 
the  forms  or  appearances  of  nature  in  such  a  way  that,  in 
addition  to  merejy  communicating  his  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, he  may  also,  through  visible  and  audible  forms, 
represent  them. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

REPRESENTATION    OF    NATURAL    APPEARANCES    AS 
INVOLVING    THAT    OF    THE    MIND. 

Further  Explanations  Needed — Two  Ways  of  Showing  a  Similar  Method  In- 
volved in  Representation  of  Nature  and  of  Mind — Line  of  Thought  to 
be  Pursued  in  the  Two  Following  Chapters — Limitations  of  the  Natural 
Appearances  Used  in  Human  Art  as  Distinguished  from  Animal  Possi- 
bilities— Its  Development  from  Vocal  Sounds  must  Call  Attention  to 
their  Agency  in  Expressing  Thought  and  Feeling  Irrespective  of  Ulterior 
Material  Ends — The  Same  True  of  its  Development  from  Objects  of 
Sight  Constructed  by  the  Hand — Connection  between  these  Facts  and 
Leaving  the  Materials  of  Art  Unchanged  from  the  Conditions  in  which 
they  Appear  in  Nature. 

'T^O  come  to  the  conclusion  that  art  has  to  deal  with  the 
reciprocal  effects  of  nature  upon  the  mind  and  of  the 
mind  upon  nature ;  and  therefore  that  art  necessitates,  on 
the  part  of  the  artist,  a  representation  both  of  the  appear- 
ances of  nature  and,  through  them,  of  the  processes  of 
the  mind,  involves  an  important  suggestion  in  the  direc- 
tion toward  which  our  thought  is  tending.  It  is  not  sup- 
posed, however,  that  the  end  in  view  can  be  fully  reached 
by  what,  at  first  thought,  may  seem  to  some  little  more 
than  a  play  upon  the  word  representation.  It  has  to  be 
acknowledged  that  the  mere  use  of  this  term  has  not  yet 
shown  beyond  dispute  a  common  basis  underlying  both 
of  the  apparently  conflicting  requirements  of  art  of 
which  we  have  been  speaking.  How  then  can  we  find 
this  common  basis?     May  we  not,  at  least,  be  encouraged 

6? 


REPRESENTATION  OF  NATURAL  APPEARANCES.      63 

in  an  endeavor  to  find  this  by  recalling  that  it  is  always 
possible,  in  this  world,  by  going  deep  enough  below  the 
surface,  to  reach  a  foundation-rock  sufificiently  broad  to 
hold  any  superstructure,  however  complex.  Simply  by 
pursuing  further  the  course  of  thought  that  up  to  this 
point  has  been  gradually  leading  us  away  from  the  more 
superficial  and  general  aspects  of  our  subject,  we  may 
hope,  at  any  rate,  to  get  nearer  to  those  that  are  deeper 
and  more  specific. 

Bearing  in  mind  that  a  single  method,  applicable  to  the 
representation  both  of  apparent  effects  of  nature  and  of 
invisible  effects  in  the  mind,  is  that  for  which  we  are  in 
search,  it  is  evident  that  we  can  accomplish  our  object  in 
either  one  of  two  ways.  We  can  show  either  that  in  the 
art  which  is  in  the  finest  and  most  distinctive  sense  nature 
made  human,  the  representation  of  the  appearances  of 
nature — in  other  words,  to  put  it  more  narrowly,  imita- 
tion, necessitates  a  representation  of  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  of  the  mind  ;  or  else  we  can  show  that  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  thoughts  or  feelings  of  the  mind — in 
other  words,  expression,  necessitates  a  representation  of 
the  appearances  of  nature.  Either  of  these  supposed 
conditions,  if  proved  actually  to  exist,  would  certainly 
accomplish  our  object.  It  will  be  the  aim  of  the  course 
of  thought  upon  which  we  are  now  to  enter  to  show  that 
both  exist. 

In  showing,  in  the  present  chapter,  that  imitation  in- 
volves representations  of  mind,  we  shall  incidentally  yet 
necessarily  reach  and  reveal  the  primal  mental  source  of 
art  in  what  is  termed  the  art-impulse.  This  will  be  treated 
by  itself  in  Chapter  VII. ;  and  in  the  chapter  following, 
when  considering  the  methods  in  which  the  art-impulse 
vents  itself,  its  expressions  will  be  shown  to  involve  repre- 


64  ART  IN   THEORY, 

sentations  of  natural  appearances.  In  the  remainder  of  the 
book  an  endeavor  will  be  made  to  show  how,  as  directed 
by  the  art-impulse,  the  reciprocal  effects  of  nature  and  of 
mind  are  represented,  first,  as  influenced  chiefly  by  those 
artistic  features  which  come  from  nature;  and  second, 
as  influenced  chiefly  by  those  artistic  features  which 
come  from  the  mind.  The  former  point  of  view  will 
necessitate  our  discussing  the  character  of  form  in  gen- 
eral as  reproduced  in  art,  and  therefore,  as  connected 
with  this,  the  general  character  of  beauty.  The  latter 
point  of  view  will  necessitate  our  discussing  the  character 
of  forms  in  particular,  when  used  as  means  of  commu- 
nicating to  others  an  intelligent  apprehension  of  mental 
processes,  and  therefore,  as  connected  with  this,  the  vari- 
ous expressional  peculiarities  and  possibilities  of  differ- 
ent departments  of  art,  or  of  different  arts,  as  we  term 
them. 

In  going  on  now  to  show  the  existence  of  the  first  of 
the  conditions  supposed  above — the  fact,  namely,  that  an 
artistic  representation  of  the  appearances  of  nature,  as  in 
imitation,  necessitates  a  representation  of  thoughts  and 
feelings,  as  in  expression, — it  will  be  best  for  us  to  begin 
by  noticing  the  general  limitations  which  the  requirement 
that  the  arts  must  be  human  as  well  as  natural  puts  upon 
the  use  of  natural  material.  Nature  gives  the  artist  sounds 
like  the  rushing  of  waters,  the  rustling  of  leaves,  the 
chirping  of  birds,  the  growling  of  beasts,  and  the  whis- 
tling, humming,  crying,  groaning,  scolding,  laughing,  and 
talking  of  human  beings.  But,  although  these  sounds 
furnish  the  elements  of  art,  only  certain  phases  of  them 
can  be  reproduced  in  it,  and  they  can  be  reproduced  in 
it  as  a  result  only  of  a  peculiar  mode  of  observing,  analyz- 
ing, selecting,  combining,  and  applying  them.     In  the 


REPRESENTATION  OF  NATURAL  APPEARANCES.      65 

same  way,  nature  gives  us  things  seen,  like  the  shapes  of 
men,  animals,  flowers,  trees,  streams,  valleys,  mountains, 
and  clouds ;  and  while  these  too  furnish  the  elements  of 
art,  only  certain  phases  of  them  can  be  reproduced  in  it ; 
and  they  can  be  reproduced  in  it  as  a  result  only  of  a 
peculiar  mode  of  observing,  analyzing,  selecting,  combin- 
ing, and  applying  them.  Now  what  phases  of  sight  and 
of  sound  can  the  art  that  is  the  most  distinctively  human 
reproduce,  and  what  is  its  peculiar  mode  of  doing  this? 

To  a  certain  extent  we  have  already  considered  the 
answers  to  both  these  questions.  In  Chapter  II.  it  was 
shown  that  the  art  which  is  most  finely  and  distinctively 
human  is  developed  from  methods  of  expression  possible 
to  the  human  voice  and  hands.  Merely  to  come  to  this 
conclusion,  however,  was  not  to  reach  the  limits  of  the 
fields  of  inquiry  thus  suggested.  Beyond  that  preliminary 
answer,  still  rises  the  question,  "  What  department  of  the 
possibilities  of  expression  derivable  from  the  physical 
formation  of  the  human  vocal  organs  and  hands,  is  human 
in  the  finest  and  most  distinctive  sense?"  In  determin- 
ing this,  we  can  start,  as  all  will  recognize,  with  the  broad 
statement  that  it  must  be  that  department  in  which  the 
general  characteristic  distinguishing  a  man's  work  from 
an  animal's  work  is  the  most  apparent.  This  general 
characteristic  is  the  definite  representation,  in  utterances 
and  constructions,  of  particular  thoughts  and  feelings. 
The  characteristic  is  most  apparent,  of  course,  in  products, 
if  there  be  any,  which  exist  for  no  other  reason  than  to 
represent  thoughts  and  feelings, — in  other  words,  that 
exist  for  expressions*s  sake  alone.  Such  products  represent 
less  because  of  what  they  express,  than  because,  existing 
to  express  it,  they  necessarily  call  attention,  as  other 
products  do  not,  to  the  thought  or  feeling  to  which  they 


(i^  ART  IN  THEORY, 

give  form ;  and  it  is  in  this  fact  and  possibility  of  giving 
form  to  thought  or  feeling  that  the  human  product  differs 
from  that  of  the  lower  animal.  Having  reached  this  con- 
clusion, it  will  be  recognized  that  the  finest  and  most  dis- 
tinctively human  art  is  not  that  which  primarily  directs 
attention  to  a  material  end  outside  of  itself  for  which  it 
is  used.  There  is  a  sense  in  which  every  utterance  of  a 
man  gives  expression  to  thoughts  or  feelings ;  but  if  he 
employ  it  only  for  some  materially  useful  purpose,  as  in 
calling  for  assistance  or  even  as  in  imparting  information, 
what  he  emphasizes  is  his  conception  of  assistance  or 
information,  not  his  mode  of  communicating  this  con- 
ception, which  alone  differentiates  his  action  from  that  of 
the  lower  animal.  A  dog,  when  in  trouble,  can  whine  to 
call  for  assistance,  and,  when  disturbed  by  a  burglar,  can 
bark  to  impart  information  of  the  fact.  What  the  dog 
cannot  do,  is  to  turn  his  whine  into  intonation  and  melody, 
and  his  bark  into  articulation  and  language. 

The  same,  in  principle,  is  true  with  reference  to  objects 
produced  by  the  hands.  There  are  compounds,  like  syrups 
and  pastes,  which  can  scarcely  be  distinguished  from  such 
things  as  sap  and  gum,  needing  no  intervention  of  any 
animal  life  whatever.  There  is  network  and  matting 
which  one  might  easily  imagine  to  have  had  their  origin 
in  thought  or  feeling  of  no  higher  order  than  that  which 
spins  the  spider's  web  or  builds  the  bird's  nest.  When, 
however,  we  come  to  implements  even  as  rude  as  the 
arrow-heads  found  with  the  bones  of  the  mound-builders, 
we  recognize  an  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  which  we 
are  obliged  to  attribute  to  design  that  is  human.  Still 
more  are  we  forced  to  ascribe  this  to  that  which  contrives 
a  thrashing  machine  or  a  steam-engine.  But  even  such 
products,  great  inventive  genius  as  they  display,  are  not 


REPRESENTATION  OF  NATURAL  APPEARANCES.      6y 

those  which  are  the  most  finely  and  distinctively  human. 
They  are  all  planned  in  order  to  be  used  as  means  to 
material  ends,  and  for  this  reason  necessarily  direct  atten- 
tion to  these  rather  than  to  the  fact  that  they  are  modes 
of  giving  form  to  thought  or  feeling. 

Now  are  there  any  products,  whether  of  the  voice  or 
the  hands,  that  necessarily  direct  attention  to  the  latter 
fact  ?  Are  there  any  products  which,  however  materially 
useful  they  may  subsequently  prove  to  be,  are,  at  any 
rate,  not  planned,  primarily,  for  the  purpose  of  being  use- 
ful? Of  course,  there  is  but  one  answer  to  this  question. 
Such  products  are  plentiful.  Moreover,  it  is  one  invariable 
characteristic  of  all  of  them  that  in  certain  features,  to  a 
certain  extent,  their  appearances  are  left  in  the  condition 
in  which  they  are  found  in  nature.  This  is  the  case  even 
with  factors  of  a  musical  melody.  The  composer  accepts 
the  different  elements  of  movement  and  pitch  as  they 
come  to  him,  rendering  them  more  useful  not  even  by 
adding  to  them  articulation.  Much  more  is  the  same 
fact  evident  in  poetry,  the  imitative,  figurative,  or  descrip- 
tive language  of  which  is  recognized  to  be  successful 
according  to  the  degree  of  fidelity  with  which  it  recalls 
the  sights  of  nature.  So  too  with  the  products  of  paint- 
ing, sculpture,  and  of  the  ornamental  parts,  at  least,  of 
architecture.  Were  forms  in  these  arts — and  in  principle 
the  statement  is  applicable  to  the  arts  of  sound  also — 
shaped  or  combined,  as  are  most  implements  and  machines, 
into  appearances  wholly  unnatural,  they  would  necessarily 
suggest  a  material  end  intended  to  be  accomplished  by 
them.  But  this  they  do  not  suggest,  for  the  very  reason 
that  their  appearances  are  not  changed  from  those  that 
are  presented  in  nature.  Here  then  we  come  upon  a  clear 
point  of  agreement  between  the  arts  that  are  the  most 


68  ART  IN   THEORY. 

finely  and  dX's^XrioXAV^Xy  forms  of  nature^  and  those  that  are 
the  most  finely  and  distinctively  human.  There  is  an  in- 
dissoluble connection  between  employing  in  a  product  the 
appearances  of  nature  and  having  it  in  a  condition  in 
which  it  will  pre-eminently  direct  attention  to  the  fact 
that  it  is  used  for  the  sole  purpose  of  giving  expression 
to  thought  or  feeling.  An  artificially  shaped  machine  or 
implement  at  once  suggests  the  question,  *'  What  can  it 
do?"  But  a  drawing  or  carving  never  suggests  this 
question,  but  rather,  *'  What  did  the  man  who  made  this 
think  about  it,  or  of  it,  that  he  should  have  reproduced 
it  ?  "  This  is  a  fact  which  at  this  place  need  only  be  sug- 
gested. The  truth  of  it,  and  the  legitimate  inferences 
from  it,  will  be  brought  out  beyond  the  possibility  of  dis- 
pute in  the  chapters  following. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   ART-IMPULSE. 

Art-Products  not  Planned  to  Obtain  Material  Ends  are  Due  to  Play  rather 
than  Work — Concurrence  of  Opinions  of  the  First  Authorities  on  this 
Subject — Views  of  Schiller  and  Spencer — Errors  in  Views  of  the  Latter 
— Imitation  the  only  Invariable  Characteristic  of  Play — Excess  of  Life- 
Force  as  Indicated  in  the  Activity  behind  the  Play-Impulse — Life-Force 
behind  the  Art-Impulse  may  be  Mental  and  Spiritual  —  Philosophic 
Warrants  for  Ascribing  Art  to  Inspiration— Art  Consciously  Gives 
Material  Embodiment  to  that  which  has  its  Source  in  Subconscious 
Mental  Action — Practical  Warrant  for  Ascribing  Art-Effects  to  Inspi- 
ration. 

T  T  is  easy  to  recognize  that,  when  considered  as  results 
of  mental  action,  the  art-products  mentioned  at  the 
end  of  Chapter  VI., — products  which,  however  useful  in 
attaining  material  ends,  are  not  planned  primarily  for  this 
purpose,  are  of  the  nature  of  those  owing  their  origin,  in 
the  sphere  of  thought,  to  dreaming  rather  than  to  plan- 
ning ;  in  that  of  feeling,  to  spontaneity  rather  than  to 
responsiveness ;  in  that  of  action,  to  play  rather  than  to 
work. 

In  different  ways  and  degrees,  this  general  fact  has  been 
acknowledged  by  almost  all  the  ablest  writers  on  this  sub- 
ject. Among  these  we  may  include,  first  of  all,  those  who 
have  emphatically  denied  an  aim  of  utility  to  any  repro- 
duction whatever  of  the  beautiful,  as  is  done  in  systems 
differing  so  essentially  in  other  regards  as  those  of  the 
German  Arthur  Schopenhauer,  who,  in  his  "  Die  Welt  als 

69 


7<^  A/^r  IN   THEORY, 

Wille  und  Vorstellung,"  conditions  it  upon  effects  '*  beyond 
the  measure  which  is  required  for  the  service  of  the  will "  ; 
of  the  Swiss  Adolphe  Pictet,  who  in  his  *'  Du  Beau  dans 
la  Nature,  I'Art  et  la  Poesie,"  conditions  it  upon  analo- 
gous effects  as  related  to  the  intellect ;  and  of  the  French 
Theodore  Jouffroy,  who  in  his  "  Cours  d'Esth^tique,"  as 
well  as  the  Italian  Vincenzo  Gioberti,  in  his  "  Trattato  del 
Bello,"  conditions  it  upon  the  same  as  related  to  the  sym- 
pathies. We  may  include  in  this  class  also  those  who  have 
attributed  aesthetic  results  to  the  subconscious  mind — 
the  mind  not  conscious,  therefore,  of  adapting  means  to 
ends — as  suggested  by  G.  W.  Leibnitz  in  his  "  Principes 
de  la  Nature,"  and,  again,  by  F.  W.  J.  Schelling  in  his 
"-^sthetik";  and  as  formulated  into  a  system  by  E.  von 
Hartmann  in  his  '*  Philosophie  des  Unbewussten,"  and 
developed,  in  an  exceedingly  suggestive  and  stimulating 
manner,  especially  for  English  readers,  in  "The  Gay 
Science"  of  E.  S.  Dallas.  A  similar  conception  is  clearly 
indicated,  too,  in  the  views  of  that  large  majority  of  those 
treating  of  the  subject,  who,  in  one  way  or  another,  have 
associated,  though  without  always  identifying,  the  chief 
feature  of  aesthetic  effects  with  the  production  of  pleasure  ; 
whether  the  source  of  this  be  considered  mainly  psycho- 
logical as  by  such  writers  as  Moses  Mendelssohn  in  his 
*'  Morgenstunden";  Immanuel  Kant  in  his  "  Kritik  der  Ur- 
theilskraft  ";  Hieronymus  van  Alphen  in  his  "Theorie 
van  Schoone  Kunsten  en  Wetenschappen " ;  Edmund 
Burke  in  his  "  Essay  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful " ; 
Abraham  Tucker  in  his  "  Light  of  Nature  Pursued " ; 
Dugald  Stewart  in  his  "Philosophical  Essays";  Dr. 
Thomas  Brown  in  his  "  Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of 
the  Human  Mind  "  ;  Sir  William  Hamilton  in  his  "  Lec- 
tures on  Metaphysics"  ;  and  John  Ruskin  in  his  "  Modern 


THE  ART-IMPULSE,  7I 

Painters "  ;  or  whether  the  source  of  this  pleasure  be 
considered  psycho-physical ;  as  in  the  theories  held  by 
Alexander  Bain  in  his  "  Mental  and  Moral  Science  "  ;  by 
James  Sully  in  his  "  Sensation  and  Intuition  :  Studies  in 
Psychology  and  Esthetics "  ;  by  Grant  Allen  in  his 
"  Physiological  Esthetics " ;  by  Eugene  V^ron  in  his 
"  L'Esth^tique "  ;  by  the  two  Darwins,  Erasmus  in  his 
"  Zoonomia/*  and  Charles  in  his  "  Descent  of  Man,"  and, 
in  fact,  by  the  most  of  our  more  recent  authorities. 

Still  more  decided  in  its  recognition  of  what  has  just 
been  stated,  is  the  attributing  of  aesthetic  results  by  the 
poet  Friedrich  von  Schiller  in  his  "  Briefe  iiber  die  aesthe- 
tische  Erziehung  des  Menschen  "  to  what  he  terms  "  der 
Spieltrieb  "  (^play-impulse).  Developing  this  theory  so  as 
by  implication  to  exclude,  as  Schiller  is  very  careful  not 
to  do,  the  spiritual  sources  of  art,  Herbert  Spencer,  in  his 
"Principles  of  Psychology,**  says  that  " as  we  ascend  to 
animals  of  high  types,  having  faculties  more  efficient  and 
more  numerous,  we  begin  to  find  that  time  and  strength 
are  not  wholly  absorbed  in  providing  for  immediate 
needs  '* ;  and  again :  '*  A  cat  with  claws  and  appended 
muscles  adjusted  to  daily  action  in  catching  prey,  but 
now  leading  a  life  that  is  but  in  a  small  degree  predatory, 
has  a  craving  to  exercise  these  parts  ;  and  may  be  seen  to 
satisfy  the  craving  by  stretching  out  her  legs,  protruding 
her  claws,  and  pulling  at  some  such  surface  as  the  cover- 
ing of  a  chair  .  .  .  This  useless  activity  of  unused 
organs,  which  in  these  cases  hardly  rises  to  what  we  call 
play,  passes  into  play  ordinarily  so  called,  when  there  is  a 
more  manifest  union  of  feeling  with  the  action.  Play  is 
.  .  .  an  artificial  exercise  of  powers  which,  in  default 
of  their  natural  exercise,  become  so  ready  to  discharge  that 
they  relieve  themselves  by  simulated  actions  in  place  of  real 


72  ART  IN   THEORY. 

actions.  For  dogs  and  other  predatory  creatures  show  us 
unmistakably  that  their  play  consists  of  mimic  chase  and 
mimic  fighting.  It  is  the  same  with  human  beings.  The 
plays  of  children — nursing  dolls,  giving  tea  parties,  and  so 
on,  are  dramatizings  of  adult  activities.  The  sports  of  boys, 
chasing  one  another,  wrestling,  making  prisoners,  obvi- 
ously gratify  in  a  partial  way  the  predatory  instincts. 
.  .  .  The  higher  but  less  essential  powers,  as  well 
as  the  lower  but  more  essential  powers,  thus  come  to 
have  activities  that  are  carried  on  for  the  sake  of  the 
immediate  gratifications  derived,  without  reference  to 
ulterior  benefits  ;  and  to  such  higher  powers,  aesthetic 
products  yield  substantial  activities,  as  games  yield  them 
to  various  lower  powers."  G.  Baldwin  Brown,  in  his 
recent  work  on  "  The  Fine  Arts,"  after  quoting  this  pas- 
sage, adds:  *' In  conclusion,  we  may  sum  up  the  matter 
by  saying  that  on  every  grade  of  his  being  man  possesses 
an  ideal  self-determined  life,  existing  side  by  side  with, 
but  apart  from,  his  life  as  conditioned  by  material  needs. 
This  life  expresses  itself  in,  and  is  nourished  by,  various 
forms  of  '  free  and  spontaneous  expression  and  action,' 
which  on  the  lower  grades  of  being  may  be  termed  simply 
*  play,'  but  in  the  higher  grades  take  the  shape  of  that 
rational  and  significant  play  resulting  in  art." 

This  last  quotation  suggests  what  seems  to  need  more 
emphasis  than  has  been  given  to  it,  namely,  that  the 
Spencerian  philosophy  tends,  at  least,  to  interpret  wrong- 
ly the  facts  that  have  been  mentioned  by  making  the 
very  common  mistake  of  taking  an  effect  for  a  cause.  A 
grown  cat,  with  no  mice  to  catch,  undoubtedly  goes 
through  the  forms  of  catching  them.  But  a  kitten  that 
has  never  caught  a  single  mouse  goes  through  the  same 
forms  a  hundred  times  more  often.     In  the  same  way  a 


THE  ART'IMPULSE,  73 

veteran  soldier  may,  now  and  then,  play  at  being  a  sol- 
dier ;  but,  as  a  rule,  it  is  the  boy  wholly  inexperienced 
in  battle,  who  amuses  himself  thus.  The  truth  seems  to 
be  that  every  animate  creature  is  an  embodiment  of  vital- 
ity, or  life-force^  as  we  may  term  it ;  and,  as  if  to  prevent 
a  lack  of  it  in  him,  it  is  usually  given  him  in  excess.  For 
this  reason,  as  in  the  case  of  the  desires  behind  all  the 
appetites,  it  always  tends  to  overflow  the  channels  of 
necessary  activity.  This  excess  of  force,  moreover,  be- 
cause it  is  to  some  extent,  as  Mr.  Spencer  correctly  holds, 
hereditary,  tends  to  expend  itself  in  the  same  directions 
as  those  taken  by  the  necessary  activities  of  his  progen- 
erators.  But  does  heredity  account  for  all  the  facts  ?  Not, 
certainly,  for  all  that  are  true  of  the  human  race.  The 
descendants  of  the  longest  conceivable  line  of  farmers, 
none  of  whom  have  ever  seen  a  battle,  a  city,  or  a  palace, 
will  play  at  being  soldiers,  merchants,  or  princes  with  just 
as  much  zest,  when  shown  by  their  comrades  how  to  do 
so,  as  will  the  sons  of  soldiers,  merchants,  or  princes. 

The  only  really  invariable  characteristic  of  play  is  the 
one  suggested  by  Mr.  Spencer  in  the  third  sentence  of 
his  quoted  above — namely,  imitation.  As  a  rule,  of 
course,  young  dogs  in  their  play  imitate  old  dogs ;  and 
young  monkeys  old  monkeys — but  not  always ;  both 
sometimes  imitate  men.  But  the  general  fact  that  the 
play-impulse y  when  it  assumes  form,  invariably  tends  to 
manifest  itself  in  imitation,  no  one  can  deny.  The  same  is 
true,  too,  or  at  least  largely  true  of  the  art-impulse.  Not 
only  is  all  dramatizing,  as  Mr.  Spencer  intimates,  imita- 
tion, but  so,  in  a  sense,  is  all  poetizing,  being  all  sup- 
posedly representative  of  what  men  say,  or  think,  or  do. 
So,  too,  are  all  reproductions  of  scenes  in  nature  through 
drawing,  coloring,  or  modelling ;  and  the  same  may  also 


74  ART  IN   THEORY. 

be  affirmed,  in  a  sense  that  need  not  be  explained  here, 
of  much  that  is  reproduced  in  music  and  architecture. 
Those,  therefore,  who  identify  the  art-impulse  with  the 
play-impulse  are  justified  when  they  apply  their  tests 
either  to  the  results  of  the  two,  or  to  their  sources. 

There  are  many  conditions  in  activity  and  in  nature 
behind  the  play-impulse  and  the  imitation  caused  by  it, 
which  now  suggest  themselves.  Considering  these  in  the 
order  in  which  they  can  be  best  interpreted,  let  us  begin 
by  noticing  that  imitation  resulting  from  play,  imitation 
of  manner  without  reference  to  matter — in  other  words, 
imitation  without  reference  to  that  which  underlies  the 
manner,  or  has  to  do  with  the  object  which  it  is  desired 
to  attain — always  arises  from  a  condition  in  which  the 
tendency  to  activity  on  the  part  of  the  imitator  is  in 
excess  of  that  which  needs  to  be  expended,  or  which,  in 
the  circumstances,  can  be  expended,  upon  gaining  what  is 
really  necessary  for  the  supply  of  material  wants.  The 
young  neither  realize  the  need  of  expending  effort  upon 
these,  nor  do  they  know  how  and  where  to  expend  it 
thus.  Therefore  they  play,  and  the  form  of  their  play  is 
imitative.  Their  elders,  on  the  contrary,  realize  that  they 
must  work ;  and  they  have  learned  how  and  where  to  do 
it.  Therefore  they  seldom  play,  having  neither  the  time 
nor  the  inclination  required.  But  that  which  causes  indul- 
gence  in  play  in  any  case  is  excess  of  life-force  which,  if 
it  cannot  be  expended  in  obtaining  that  which  is  needful 
for  the  supply  of  material  wants,  must  be  expended  in 
other  directions. 

Now,  going  back,  let  us  recall  that  products  which  are 
human  in  the  finest  and  most  distinctive  sense,  do  not 
result  from  an  excess  of  life-force  in  general,  but  only  of 
that  particular  phase  of  it  which  is  expended  distinctively 


THE  ART-IMPULSE,  75 

upon  modes  of  expressing  thought  or  feeling.  ^vX  force  is 
something  which  derives  its  importance,  if  not  its  quaUty, 
less  from  itself  than  from  that  in  which  or  upon  which  it 
operates.  A  clear  recognition  of  this  fact  would  have 
rendered  unnecessary  much  of  the  criticism  to  which  this 
theory  of  th.^  play-impulse  has  been  subjected,  such,  for  in- 
stance, as  abounds  in  *'  Les  Probl^mes  de  TEsth^tique  Con- 
temporaine,"  by  Jean  Marie  Guyau,  and  adds  piquancy  to 
*'  The  Spirit  of  Beauty  "  by  H.  W.  Parker.  The  truth  is  that 
we  all  recognize  a  difference  in  both  importance  and  quality 
between  what  we  term  hand-power,  horse-power,  or  steam- 
power  and  electric-power.  According  to  the  same  analogy, 
a  moment's  consideration  will  enable  us  to  recognize  that 
the  force  which  is  expended  upon  the  imitation  of  nature 
may  be  much  more  important  and  also  different  in  quality 
when  it  is  used  in  the  expression  of  thought  and  feeling 
than  when  it  is  expended  upon  merely  physical  phases  of 
activity,  as  by  the  lower  animals.  As  distinguished  from 
the  latter  force,  which  is  rightly  termed  vital,  physical,  or 
animal,  the  former  may  be  termed  mental,  psychical,  or 
spiritual.  A  clear  perception  of  a  difference  between 
these  two  is  essential.  Only  when  it  is  understood  can 
one  understand  how  art,  while  traceable  to  that  which,  in 
one  sphere,  is  a  play-motive,  and  while  produced  with  an 
aim  irrespective  of  any  consideration  of  material  utility, 
nevertheless  often  springs  from  mental  and  spiritual 
activity  of  the  most  distinctive  kind,  and  results  in  the 
greatest  possible  benefit  to  the  race.  What  if  a  product 
does  exist  for  expression's  sake  alone  ?  A  being  with  a 
mind  and  spirit  perpetually  evolving  thought  and  feeling 
possesses  that  which,  for  its  own  sake,  ought  to  be  ex- 
pressed. Beyond  his  material  surroundings  and  interests, 
there  exists  for  him  a  realm  in  which  excess  of  mental 


76  ART  IN   THEORY, 

and  spiritual  force  may  be  directed  toward  the  production 
of  veritable  works  of  art ;  and  the  effects  of  these  upon 
mental  and  spiritual  development  may  be  infinitely  more 
important  than  all  possible  energy  that  could  expend 
itself  in  seeking  "  what  shall  we  eat,  or  what  shall  we 
drink,  or  wherewithal  shall  we  be  clothed." 

Just  here,  in  fact,  we  come  upon  a  philosophic,  if  not 
scientific,  warrant  for  that  common  opinion,  so  often  held 
without  reasoning  and  expressed  without  discrimination, 
that  the  products  of  art  are  to  be  ascribed  to  what  is 
termed  inspiration.  When  we  have  traced  them  to  this 
overflow  at  the  very  springs  of  mental  vitality,  no  one 
who  thinks  can  fail  to  feel  that,  if  human  life  anywhere 
can  come  into  contact  with  the  divine  life,  it  must  be  here. 
There  are  reservoirs  behind  the  springs  of  the  mountain- 
streams.  Are  there  none  behind  those  of  thought  ? 
And  if  there  be,  what  are  they?  The  answer  to  this 
question  must  depend,  of  course,  upon  the  general  char- 
acter of  one's  theologic  or  philosophic  conceptions.  He 
may  attribute  that  which  he  calls  inspiration  directly  and 
immediately  to  the  divine  source  of  life.  Or,  recognizing 
the  erroneous  nature  of  the  forms  in  which  truth,  even 
when  most  unmistakably  inspired,  is  often  presented,  he 
may  suppose  that  there  are  gradations  of  intelligences 
beyond  one's  ken  through  which,  even  before  undergoing 
subjection  to  human  limitations,  the  brightness  of  the 
divine  light,  in  order  to  become  attempered  to  the  re- 
quirements of  earthly  conditions,  loses  not  only  its  bril- 
liancy but  with  this  much  of  its  defining  power.  Or  he 
may  suppose  that  the  soul  itself  comes  into  the  world 
stored  with  forces  directly  created  for  it,  or  else  indirectly 
acquired  in  a  previous  existence  of  which  not  only  every 
otherwise  unaccountable  intuition  but  every  impulse  is  a 


THE  ART-IMPULSE,  77 

consequence, — a  previous  existence,  which,  if  not  human 
and  personal,  may,  at  least,  have  existed  as  a  psychic  force 
developing  in  the  lower  orders  of  life  according  to  the 
laws  of  psychic  evolution  through  successive  physical 
forms,  themselves  developing  according  to  the  laws  of 
physical  evolution.  Or,  finally,  he  may  suppose  that  this 
reservoir  is  in  a  man's  own  subconscious  nature  ;  and  this, 
again,  he  may  suppose  to  be  either  psychical  or  physical. 
With  those  whose  tendencies  are  toward  idealism,  he  may 
deem  the  reservoir  to  be  the  receptacle  of  experiences  in 
his  present  state  of  existence,  stored  in  the  inner  mind 
with  all  their  attendant  associations  and  suggestions,  and, 
in  accordance  with  some  law,  surging  upward  in  order  to 
control  thought  and  expression  whenever,  as  in  dreams 
or  reveries,  or  abnormal  states  of  trance  or  excitation,  or 
merely  of  poetic  enthusiasm,  the  conscious  will,  for  any 
reason,  is  subordinated  to  the  impulse  coming  from  within. 
Or,  with  those  whose  tendencies  are  more  materialistic, 
he  may  consider  this  subconscious  nature  to  be  the  accu- 
mulated result  merely  of  that  which,  through  physical 
sensation,  has  come  to  be  stored  up  in  the  nerve-cells  and, 
in  circumstances  similar  to  those  just  mentioned,  aroused 
to  conscious  vitality  as  a  consequence  either  of  intense 
external  stimulation,  or  of  unusual  activity  in  the  nervous 
centres.  See  Chapter  XII.  Whether  a  man  incline  to  the 
acceptance  of  one  of  these  theories,  or  of  a  combination  of 
them ;  however  he  may  account  for  what  lies  in  the  realm 
of  mystery  beyond  the  art-impulse,  it  is  evident  that  the 
theory  just  presented  of  it  can  accord  with  every  possible 
view.  That,  back  of  all  conscious  intelligence,  there  is  an 
unconscious  intelligence  of  some  kind,  in  which  the  powers 
of  memory  and  of  deduction  are  wellnigh,  if  not  abso- 
lutely, perfect,  the  phenomena  of  accident,  disease,  and 


78  ART  IN   THEORY. 

hypnotism  seem  to  have  established  beyond  all  question. 
How,  otherwise,  could  men  with  memories  naturally  weak 
recall,  as  at  times  they  do,  in  abnormal  conditions,  whole 
conversations  in  a  foreign  tongue  with  not  one  word  of 
which  they  are  consciously  acquainted  ?  Or  how  could 
those  of  the  very  slightest  powers  of  imagination  or  of 
logic,  argue  for  hours,  when  in  such  states,  with  superlative 
brilliancy  and  conclusiveness?  Whatever  be  the  final  ex- 
planation of  these  facts,  in  themselves — as  will  be  brought 
out  clearly  in  the  volume  of  this  series  treating  of  the 
nature  of  the  thought  that  can  be  represented  in  art — they 
cannot  now  be  doubted.  Behind  conscious  mental  life, 
sources  exist  of  intellectual  energy.  They  find  expression 
in  many  ways — in  the  words  and  deeds  of  ordinary  obser- 
vation, as  well  as  in  extraordinary  moods  and  methods  of 
prophets  and  reformers.  But  there  is  only  one  department 
of  activity  which  humanity  appears  to  have  developed  for 
the  special  purpose  of  giving  expression — if  we  may  so 
say,  of  consciously  giving  material  embodiment — to  that 
which  has  its  source  in  these  subconscious  regions  of 
the  mind  ;  and  this  department  of  activity  is  art. 

Few,  indeed,  derive  their  impressions  of  art-inspiration 
through  considerations  at  all  similar  to  those  which  have 
just  been  presented.  Men  infer  it  as  a  cause  from  what 
they  have  experienced  of  its  effects.  And,  surely,  if 
anywhere  there  be  anything  that  is  inspired,  this  must 
be  true  of  some  of  these.  What  else  than  a  subtle  sense 
of  influences  traceable  to  the  deepest  springs  in  life  of 
which  we  know,  could  cause  us  all  to  recognize  it  as  a 
legitimate  tribute  to  the  art  of  a  singer  like  Pacchierotti, 
when  we  hear  of  an  entire  orchestra  so  entranced  by  his 
voice  as  to  cease  playing,  and,  with  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
to  break  down  in  the  midst  of  an  accompaniment? — or  of 


THE  ART-IMPULSE,  79 

a  poet  like  Euripides,  when  we  read  of  the  Sicilians  saving 
the  lives  of  such  of  their  Athenian  captives  as  could  re- 
member and  repeat  his  verses  ? — or  of  an  actor  like  Cooke, 
when  we  are  told  of  his  portraying  his  conception  of 
lago  so  as  to  be  hissed  by  his  audiences  with  cries  of : 
*'  Villain,  Villain  "  ? — or  of  an  orator  like  Whitefield,  when 
we  think  of  a  Franklin,  previously  resolved  not  to  give  a 
penny  to  a  cause  which  the  preacher  was  to  advocate, 
emptying  the  whole  contents  of  his  pockets  at  the  end  of 
the  discourse? — or  of  a  painter  like  Cimabue,  when  we 
learn  that  the  whole  city  of  Florence  turned  out  to  cele- 
brate the  day  on  which  he  was  to  set  up  a  new  picture  ? — 
or  of  a  sculptor  like  Phidias,  when  we  find  it  recorded 
that  Paulus  Emilius  in  the  presence  of  his  statue  of 
Jupiter  Olympus  was  struck  with  awe  as  if  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  god  himself? — or  of  an  architect  like  Michael 
Angelo,  when  we  listen  to  the  muffled  exclamations  that 
invariably  announce  that  a  stranger  stands  for  the  first 
time  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  or  under  the  dome  of  St. 
Peter's  ?  Other  products  of  men,  products  that  are  not 
distinctively  works  of  arts,  sometimes  have  marvellous 
effects.  A  machine,  a  galvanic  battery,  can  electrify  a 
body  just  bereft  of  life  into  movements  for  a  moment 
almost  deceiving  the  senses  into  surmising  life's  return. 
But  what  are  such  effects  to  those  of  art  ?  men  ask.  What 
else  but  it  can  put  such  spirit  into  matter  which  never 
yet  had  life  that  the  vitality  can  remain  forever  ? — More 
than  this,  what  else  can  reach  outside  the  forms  in  which 
it  is  embodied,  and  electrify  all  beings  that  have  souls  ? 
And  when  one  yields  to  arts  of  this  kind,  the  highest 
homage  that  can  be  bestowed  upon  the  products  of  intel- 
ligence and  skill,  to  himself,  at  least,  he  seems  to  do  so, 
recognizing  not  alone  that  the  finest  and  most  distinctive 


8o  ART  IN   THEORY. 

qualities  of  mind  have  been  expended  on  them  ;  not 
alone  that  they  have  issued  from  an  intellect  exerting  all 
its  power,  throned  in  the  regal  right  of  all  its  functions  ; 
not  alone  that  they  have  involved  activities  of  mind  at 
the  sources  of  the  useful  and  of  the  ornamental  arts  com- 
bined. But  he  does  so,  because  he  feels  that  such 
activities,  when  exercised  conjointly,  adjusting  thought  to 
form  and  form  to  thought,  necessitate,  even  aside  from 
any  other  consideration,  a  quality  of  action  that  is  not 
the  same  as  that  manifested  by  either  of  the  same  activi- 
ties, when  not  combined.  Gunpowder  and  a  match  give 
neither  of  the  two,  nor  both.  No  wonder  then  that  mental 
possibilities,  united  as  in  art,  suggest  a  force  and  brilliancy 
different  in  kind  from  that  exhibited  in  any  other  sphere. 
**  I  tell  you,"  said  King  Henry  VIII.  to  a  nobleman 
who  had  brought  him  an  accusation  against  the  painter 
Holbein,  "  I  tell  you  of  seven  peasants  I  can  make  as 
many  lords,  but  of  seven  lords  I  could  not  make  one 
Holbein." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

REPRESENTATION  OF  THE   MIND  AS  INVOLVING  THAT 
OF  NATURAL  APPEARANCES. 

Connection  between  the  Art-Impulse  and  Imitation  of  Natural  Appear- 
ances— A  Utilitarian  Desire  to  Produce  Something  Fitted  to  Attract 
Attention  as  a  Mode  of  Expression  not  the  Reason  for  Art-Imitation — 
But  Charm  or  Beauty  in  the  Object  Imitated,  which  has  had  an  Effect 
upon  Desire — What  Forms  of  Nature  made  Human  Reproduce  these 
Beautiful  Effects  ? — Natural  Intonations  and  Articulations  of  the  Voice 
as  Developed  into  Music  and  Poetry — Natural  Marking,  Shaping,  and 
Combining  by  the  Hands  as  Developed  into  Painting,  Sculpture,  and 
Architecture — Connection  between  an  Expression  and  an  External 
Product — Both  Essential  to  Art  in  Music — In  Poetry — In  the  Painting 
and  Sculpture  of  Figures — Of  Still  Life — The  only  Explanation  of  the 
Existence  of  these  Arts — Architecture  Apparently  both  Useful  and 
^Esthetic — So  are  All  Arts — Architecture  as  Representing  Man — As 
Representing  Nature — Its  Further  Possibilities  in  the  Latter  Direction 
— Not  Separated  in  Principle  from  the  Other  Arts. 

TN  Chapter  VI.  it  was  shown  that  artistic  representation 
or  imitation  of  the  appearances  of  nature  involves  a 
representation  of  the  thoughts  and  feelings  in  the  mind 
of  the  artist.  Now  that  we  have  traced  these  thoughts 
and  feelings  back  to  their  mental  sources  in  the  art- 
impulse,  we  are  prepared  to  retrace  our  steps,  and  to 
show  how  all  thoughts  and  feelings,  to  which  it  gives 
rise,  in  order  to  represent  themselves  in  outward  expres- 
sion, must  also  represent  or  imitate  the  appearances  of 
nature.  While  the  art-impulse  is  the  mental  cause  of 
artistic  activity,  the  appearances  of  nature,  by  which  the 

6  81 


82  ART  IN  THEORY, 

one  moved  by  this  impulse  is  surrounded,  are  material 
causes  perpetually  furnishing  conditions  for  its  exercise. 
Were  it  not  for  these  appearances,  the  activit}/  could  find 
no  means  of  outward  expression,  no  means  of  appealing 
to  the  senses.  To  do  this,  as  was  shown  on  page  3,  it 
must  make  use  of  forms  which  nature  has  furnished. 
Moreover,  in  order  that  these,  when  thus  used  in  art,  may 
call  attention  to  the  fact  that  they  are  intended  to  be 
modes  of  expression,  it  is  also  important,  as  has  been 
shown  too,  that  they  be  imitative. 

Now  let  us  ask,  as  having  an  evident  bearing  upon  de- 
termining that  for  which,  all  through  this  essay,  we  have 
been  in  search,  namely,  the  forms  that  are  the  most  finely 
and  distinctively  those  of  nature  made  human — let  us  ask 
what  it  is  in  any  case  that  causes  one  form  rather  than 
other  forms  to  be  imitated.  Must  we  not  attribute  this 
(see  page  58)  to  the  artist's  recognizing  that  the  form 
chosen  is  the  best  fitted  to  call  attention  to  itself  as  a 
mode  of  expression  ?  But  why  does  the  artist  recognize 
this  fact?  Is  it  owing  to  some  quality  in  the  form  ap- 
pealing to  his  rational  nature  so  that  he  argues  and  con- 
cludes that  this  form  is  best  adapted  to  his  ends?  Were 
this  the  case,  would  not  his  mental  action  be  consciously 
controlled  by  an  aim  of  utility  ?  and  if  so,  how  could 
his  efforts  be  attributed  to  an  absence  of  this  aim,  which 
has  been  said  to  be  characteristic  of  all  work  traceable  to 
the  art-impulse  ?  Any  endeavor  to  deal  fairly  with  such 
questions  must  evidently  force  us  to  conclude  that  this 
aim,  however  certainly  it  may  be  attained,  is  not  that 
which  is  chiefly  present  to  his  consciousness.  Moreover, 
when  we  recall  that  the  play-impulse  in  animals,  to  which 
the  art-impulse  in  man  has  been  shown  to  be  analogous, 
is  also   imitative,   and   is   so   in   circumstances   showing 


REPRESENTATION  OF   THE  MIND.  83 

that  it  springs  not  from  intentional  adaptation  of  means 
to  ends,  but  from  instinct,  we  must  admit  that  the  chief 
reason  for  art-imitation  must  lie  deeper  than  any  conscious 
intention  on  the  part  of  the  artist  to  make  it  useful. 

What  is  this  reason  ?  As  it  cannot  be  attributed,  as 
shown  on  page  74,  to  any  external  constraint  or  necessity, 
nor,  as  just  shown,  to  the  imitator's  deliberate  designs, 
must  it  not  be  attributed  to  his  instinctive  desires?  But 
desires  cannot  be  aroused  in  view  of  an  external  appearance 
and  excited  to  action  imitating  it,  except  as  something 
connected  with  it  appears  desirable.  A  pup  or  kitten  not 
only,  but  a  child,  imitates  the  action  of  his  elders  only 
when  allured  to  do  so  by  some  subtle  charm  connected 
with  the  action,  which  causes  him — of  course,  because  in 
some  way  it  fits  the  requirements  of  his  nature — to  be  at- 
tracted to  it,  and  so  to  be  desirous  of  reproducing  it.  To 
apply  this  to  the  appearances  of  nature,  which,  as  we  must 
remember,  are  always  surrounding  the  man,  and,  there- 
fore, are  always  furnishing  the  conditions  in  connection 
with  which  his  activities  may  vent  themselves,  we  are 
forced  to  conclude  that  it  is  only  when  an  effect,  whether 
appealing  to  the  ear  or  eye,  exerts  a  subtle  charm  upon 
the  mind  and  spirit  that  it  influences  a  man  suf^ciently 
to  cause  him  to  desire  to  reproduce  it.  But  what  is  it 
that  exerts  this  subtle  charm  upon  the  mind  and  spirit? 
It  must  be  something,  of  course,  connected  with  the 
appearance  or  form  ;  for  it  is  this,  presumably,  which  is 
imitated.  But  charm  exerted  by  appearance  or  form  is 
due,  as  a  rule,  to  that  which  men  ordinarily  associate  with 
the  term  beauty — a  term,  the  full  significance  of  which 
cannot  be  brought  out  here.  It  suffices  to  say  that  *'  Les 
Beaux  Arts,"  as  the  French  call  them,  '*  the  beautiful 
arts,"  "  the  fine  arts,"  **  the  arts,"  as  we  term  them,  are 


84  ART  IN   THEORY. 

those  in  which  a  man  gives  expression  to  the  excess 
within  him  of  mental  and  spiritual,  or,  as  we  may  say,  in- 
tellectual and  emotional  vitality  through  a  representation 
of  effects  exerting  that  subtle  charm  which,  as  a  rule,  is 
traceable  only  to  appearances  having  what  is  called  beauty. 

Before  going  on  now  to  consider  more  specifically  this 
subject  of  beauty  which  is,  at  once,  suggested  here,  let  us, 
in  the  rest  of  this  chapter,  notice  still  more  in  detail  than 
has  yet  been  done,  and  now  for  the  last  time,  exactly 
what  are  the  forms  of  nature  made  human  in  which  effects, 
beautiful  in  themselves,  are  represented,  and  through  the 
use  of  the  human  vocal  organs  or  hands,  as  indicated  on 
page  65,  are  made  to  give  expression  to  an  excess  of 
mental  or  spiritual  vitality. 

In  using  the  vocal  organs,  two  kinds  of  effects  are  pos- 
sible, namely,  intonations^  as  we  may  term  them,  caused 
by  adjustments  of  the  vocal  chords  in  the  larynx,  and 
articulatio7ts  caused  by  adjustments  of  the  lips,  tongue, 
and  palate.  For  ends  of  material  utility,  men  command, 
assert,  question,  cry,  call,  and  express  many  other  wishes 
through  intonations ;  and  they  make  their  wishes  more 
intelligible  by  forming  them  into  words  through  articula- 
tions. But  how  and  when  does  excess  of  force  manifest 
itself  in  each  form  ?  or  how  and  when  do  men  indulge  in 
each  form  irrespective  of  any  end  of  material  utility  ? 
Evidently  whenever,  influenced  by  no  demand  of  actual 
necessity,  by  no  need  of  giving  anything  to  others,  or  of 
getting  it  from  them,  they  intone  or  talk  to  themselves, 
as  we  say.  But  when  they  are  intoning  to  themselves 
without  articulation,  what  are  they  doing  ?  Humming. 
And  what  is  humming,  as  related  to  art  ?  Undoubtedly, 
the  beginning  of  music — the  beginning  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  beautiful  in  sound.     So  much  all  will  recog- 


REPRESENTATION  OF  THE   MIND.  85 

nize ;  but  probably  few  will  recognize  that  unless  a  man 
could  and  did  hum  in  this  apparently  useless  way,  it  is 
not  likely  that  any  conception  of  musical  art  could  ever 
be  suggested  to  him.  At  any  rate,  it  is  true  as  a  fact  that 
it  is  never  until  something  in  connection  with  the  form  in 
which  he  hums — the  movement,  the  tune — attracts  his 
attention,  charms  him,  seems  beautiful  to  him,  and  he 
begins  to  experiment  or  play  with  it  for  its  own  sake, 
irrespective  of  any  aim  having  to  do  with  material  utility, 
that  he  begins  to  develop  the  possibilities  of  the  musician. 
In  a  precisely  similar  way,  talking  to  oneself  may  be  said 
to  be  the  underlying  condition  of  poetry.  When  a  man, 
because  interested  in  some  ulterior  object,  is  talking  to 
others,  he  has  neither  the  time  nor  the  inclination  to 
think  of  the  form  that  he  is  using.  It  is  only  when  some- 
thing in  connection  with  the  form — the  metaphors,  similes, 
sounds  of  the  syllables,  or  words — attracts  his  attention, 
charms  him,  seems  beautiful  to  him,  and  he  begins  to 
experiment  or  play  with  it  for  its  own  sake — it  is  only 
then  that  he  begins  to  develop  the  possibilities  of  the 
poet. 

How  now  is  the  same  motive  manifested  in  results  ne- 
cessitating the  use  of  the  hands  ?  These  results  we  may 
divide  into  three  classes,  namely,  those  produced  respec- 
tively by  markings  as  in  drawing  or  coloring,  by  shaping, 
as  in  separating  compounds  into  their  elements  or  in 
modelling  them  ;  and  by  combining,  as  in  constructing 
and  building  single  objects  from  scattered  material.  As 
actually  applied  to  products,  all  these  methods  are  some- 
times used  conjointly ;  but  they  are  clearly  distinguishable 
and  can  sometimes  be  used  separately.  Each,  too,  can 
serve  ends  of  material  utility,  and  this  even  in  the  expres- 
sion of  thought  and  feeling.     In  this  way,  the  first  method 


86  ART  IN   THEORY. 

leads  a  man  to  draw  outlines  on  his  material,  whether 
board  or  stone,  preparatory  to  shaping  or  coloring  it. 
Often,  too,  such  drawings  can  aid  his  own  memory  in  re- 
calling scenes,  or  aid  his  pupils  when  he  wishes  to  teach 
them  how  to  copy  sites  or  figures.  The  same  method 
leads  him,  too,  after  a  time,  to  invent,  first,  ideographic 
and  hieroglyphic,  and  then  phonetic  forms  of  writing. 
The  second  method  leads  him  to  put  the  results  of  his 
drawing  to  further  use  by  cutting  up  the  material  that  he 
has  marked  in  order  to  shape  it  for  certain  other  ulterior 
ends.  Moreover,  the  material  itself,  when  so  shaped,  as 
in  cases  of  clothing,  knives,  forks,  and  most  implements, 
usually  shows  exactly  what  these  ends  are.  The  third 
method  leads  him  to  join  together  materials  that  have 
already  been  thus  marked  and  shaped,  and  in  this  way  to 
bring  the  whole  procedure  to  a  conclusion,  the  most 
primitive,  as  well  as  still  the  most  necessary  and  impor- 
tant adaptation  of  this  method  being  that  employed  in 
house-building.  We  are  ready  now  to  ask,  how  and  when 
do  men  manifest  excess  of  expressional  force  according 
to  each  of  these  methods  ?  or  indulge  in  each  irrespective 
of  any  end  of  material  utility  ?  Evidently,  whenever  in- 
fluenced by  no  demand  of  actual  necessity,  by  no  need  of 
doing  anything  for  others,  or  of  getting  anything  from 
them,  they  mark,  or  shape,  or  combine  merely  to  gratify 
themselves,  that  is,  to  embody  their  own  conceptions  of 
what  is  attractive,  charming,  or  beautiful.  A  rude  outline 
can  convey  all  that  is  essential  to  suggest  to  oneself  or  to 
others  the  idea  of  a  horse.  When  a  man,  simply  to  give 
vent  to  the  excess  of  energy  in  his  expressional  nature, 
delays  over  the  outline,  adding  to  what  would  be  neces- 
sary in  hieroglyphic  writing,  for  instance,  limnings  and 
colors  that  make  the  representation   more   complete  or 


REPRESENTA  TION  OF  THE  MIND,  87 

ornate,  he  is  moved  by  the  art-impulse.  When  again, 
merely  to  give  vent  to  this  energy,  besides  shaping,  he 
shapes  carefully,  or  ornaments  clothing,  knives,  forks,  or 
other  implements ;  and,  still  more,  when  he  does  all  this 
in  connection  with  busts  and  statues,  which  from  their 
very  nature  by  imaging  human  forms  and  faces,  are  pecul- 
iarly adapted  for  the  expression  of  human  thought  and 
feeling,  then  again  he  is  moved  by  this  impulse.  Once 
more,  when  in  constructing  by  way  of  combination  any 
object,  but  especially  a  house  with  which  we  always  asso- 
ciate human  occupants,  he  adds  to  it,  above  what  is  neces- 
sary, pillars,  porches,  window-caps,  cornices,  cupolas,  and 
always  in  the  degree  in  which  these  are  distinctly  expres- 
sive of  human  sentiment — as  in  a  church,  for  instance, — 
then,  too,  he  is  influenced  by  the  art-impulse.  It  is  almost 
superfluous  to  point  out  that,  in  these  three  cases,  respec- 
tively, we  find  the  conditions  leading  to  painting,  sculp- 
ture, and  architecture. 

Some  who  have  read  these  last  paragraphs  will  now 
recall,  and  be  right  in  recalling,  that  when  men  speak 
of  expression^  they  ordinarily  associate  it  with  the  use  of 
the  human  body  as  in  intonations,  words,  postures,  and 
gestures,  especially  as  in  the  first  two  of  these.  But  in 
what  has  been  said  here,  it  has  been  associated  with  the 
use  of  the  hands  in  the  construction  of  external  products. 
At  first  thought,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  painting 
and  sculpture,  in  some  of  their  phases,  reproduce  postures 
and  gestures,  it  certainly  seems  that  expression  can  be  at- 
tributed to  these  products  in  only  a  secondary  and  differ- 
ent sense  from  that  in  which  it  is  attributable  in  the  other 
cases.  If  this  be  so,  why  are  not  music  and  poetry,  which 
are  developed  from  the  direct  and  primary  form  of  expres- 
sion in  the  use  of  the  voice,  more  emphatically  results  of 


88  AR  T  I^r  THEOR  K. 

the  art-impulse  than  are  painting,  sculpture,  and  architec- 
ture, which  are  developed  only  from  the  indirect  and 
secondary  form  of  expression  attendant  upon  the  con- 
structive uses  of  the  hands?  This  is  a  question  with  rea- 
sons behind  it ;  and  it  needs  to  be  answered.  The  answer 
will  be  suggested  by  that  other  fact,  pointed  out  on  page 
55,  namely,  that  expression  necessarily  involves  an  appeal 
to  the  ear  or  eye  through  that  which  is  an  appearance  or 
form — in  other  words,  an  external  product.  If  this  be  so, 
that  art  which  is  in  the  highest  and  most  distinctive  sense 
an  expressiofty  must  also  involve  in  the  highest  and  most 
distinctive  sense  an  external  product.  It  is  true  that  the 
term  expression  is  primarily  associated  with  that  which 
results  from  the  use  of  the  voice ;  but  it  is  also  true  that 
secondarily  it  is  associated  with  that  which  is  made  by 
the  hands.  It  is  true,  moreover,  that  an  external  product 
is  primarily  associated  with  that  which  is  made  by  the 
hands ;  but  here,  too,  it  is  also  true  that  secondarily  it  is 
associated  with  that  which  results  from  the  use  of  the 
voice.  These  two  facts,  as  will  be  seen,  counterbalance 
each  other,  and  in  this  way  correct  the  apparent  inequali- 
ties in  the  conditions  underlying  the  different  arts.  For, 
if  music  and  poetry  suggest  most  with  regard  to  expres- 
sion,  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture  suggest  most 
with  regard  to  an  external  product ;  and  the  whole  truth 
is  not  taken  into  consideration  until  it  is  recognized  that 
a  work  of  the  finest  and  most  distinctive  human  art  in 
necessitating  expression  for  expression's  sake  necessitates 
also  an  external  product  of  beauty  embodying  this. 

Let  us  observe  now  in  what  sense  this  statement  is  true 
as  applied  to  each  of  the  arts  in  succession. 

Music  has  been  traced  to  humming.  But  only  a  slight 
development  of  this  latter  is  needed  in  order  to  turn  it 


REPRESENTA  TION  OF  THE  MIND.  89 

into  a  song ;  and  a  song  is  not  merely  the  beginning  of 
music,  but  music.  Cannot  a  man  sing  without  construct- 
ing a  product  external  to  himself?  Certainly  he  can,  and 
so  can  a  bird  ;  and,  if  a  man  could  do  no  more,  he  could 
do  nothing  entitling  music  to  be  placed  in  a  class  different 
from  that  to  which,  for  example,  dramatic  representation 
belongs.  A  melody,  in  itself  considered,  is  not  necessa- 
rily, in  the  finest  and  most  distinctive  sense,  a  natural  form 
made  human.  Yet  it  may  be  this.  It  is  so  in  the  degree 
in  which  it  is  unmistakably  a  product  of  the  art  of  music. 
What  is  such  a  product  ?  A  composition  that  consists 
not  merely  of  unstudied  subjective  expressions  in  sounds. 
It  is  objective.  It  is  a  result  of  labor  and  practice.  Even 
aside  from  its  usually  involving  an  external  writing  in 
musical  notation,  it  is  a  development  of  a  complicated 
system  of  producing  notes  and  scales  and  chords,  not  only 
with  the  human  voice,  but  with  numerous  instruments, 
invented,  primarily,  so  as  to  imitate  every  possibility  of 
the  human  voice,  all  these  working  together  in  accordance 
with  subtle  laws  of  melody  and  harmony  which,  as  a  re- 
sult of  years  of  experiment,  men  have  discovered  and 
learned  to  apply.  Indeed,  almost  the  slightest  musical 
composing  suggests  an  external  product.  Simple  hum- 
ming is  not  only  a  method  of  expression  for  its  own  sake, 
but  it  is  a  form  of  nature,  of  nature  as  manifested  in  a 
man.  A  symphony  is  a  development  not  only  of  the  pos- 
sibilities of  this  expression,  but  of  its  peculiar  form  ;  and 
it  involves,  therefore,  especially  in  connection  with  the 
necessity  for  a  written  score  and  for  manufactured  instru- 
ments, the  existence  and  elaboration  of  form  such  as  is 
possible  only  to  an  external  product.  Notice,  too,  that 
to  the  last  detail  of  this  elaboration,  there  is  nothing 
whatever  in  the  art  that  is  not  attributable  to  the  satisfac- 


90  ART  IN  THEORY, 

tion  which  the  mind  takes  in  developing  the  form  not  for 
the  purpose  of  attaining  an  end  of  material  utility ;  but 
for  the  sake  of  its  own  intrinsic  beauty. 

Similar  facts  are  true  of  poetry.  A  man  like  an  animal 
could  express  his  actual  wants  in  a  few  different  sighs, 
cries,  grunts,  and  hisses.  But  from  these  he  develops,  in 
their  various  forms,  the  innumerable  words  and  phrases 
that  render  possible  the  nice  distinctions  of  language. 
These  words  and  phrases  are  often  freshly  invented  by 
the  poets,  and  they  are  almost  always  invented  as  a  re- 
sult of  what  is  recognized  to  be  the  poetic  tendency 
latent  in  all  men.  As  for  poems  considered  as  wholes, 
their  metres  or  rhymes  are  never  produced  as  immediate 
subjective  utterances,  such  as  we  hear  in  ordinary  speech. 
They  are  always  the  work  of  the  imagination,  bringing 
together  the  results  of  experience  and  experiment,  ac- 
cording to  the  method  termed  composition.  In  other 
words,  even  aside  from  the  fact  that  they  are  usually 
written  or  printed,  but  necessarily  when  considered  in 
connection  with  this,  they  evidently  involve  the  con- 
struction of  an  external  product.  Nor  can  we  explain 
their  existence  at  all,  except  by  attributing  them  to  the 
intense  and  unadulterated  satisfaction  which  the  poet 
derives  from  elaborating  them,  not  for  ends  of  material 
utility,  but  for  effects  of  beauty  that  pertain  only  to 
themselves. 

Passing  on  to  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  let 
us  notice  in  what  sense  the  statements  just  made  with 
reference  to  music  and  poetry  are  true  of  them  too.  As 
has  been  said,  they  all  appeal  to  sight.  How  does  a  man 
express  to  sight  what  is  passing  in  his  mind  ?  Un- 
doubtedly by  his  postures  and  the  gestures  of  his  hands, 
feet,  head,  and  countenance,  and  by  these  as  we  see  him 
when  standing  alone  not  only,  but  when  surrounded  by 


REPRESENTATION  OF  THE  MIND.  9 1 

Other  persons  and  things.  Postures  and  gestuiv.  i,  though 
never  as  definitely  intelHgible  as  the  sounds  of  the  voice, 
are,  nevertheless,  in  as  true  a  sense  natural  forms  of  com- 
municating thought  and  feeling ;  and  may  be  developed 
into  the  subordinate  art  of  pantomime,  just  as  natural 
forms  of  utterance  in  sound  may  be  developed  into  the 
art  of  speech.  But  pantomime  is  no  more  painting  or 
sculpture  than  speech  is  poetry.  It  is  when  a  man  be- 
comes so  attracted  and  charmed  by  the  methods  through 
which  he  naturally  expresses  thought  in  pantomime  that 
he  begins  to  make  an  external  product,  embodying 
thought  through  like  methods, — it  is  then  that  he  begins 
to  work  in  the  sphere  of  the  higher  arts.  Moreover,  when 
he  does  this,  he  does  not  pose  with  his  own  figure,  as  in 
dramatic  representation,  but  he  makes  other  figures  pose 
— that  is  to  say,  he  draws,  colors,  shapes,  and  combines 
the  different  parts  of  the  figures  of  other  men,  either 
alone,  or  in  connection  with  their  fellows  or  with  objects 
of  nature  animate  or  inanimate.  Besides  this,  too,  very 
often  without  making  use  of  any  human  figures,  he 
draws,  colors,  shapes,  or  combines  other  animate  or 
inanimate  objects.  It  is  for  these  reasons  and  in  these 
circumstances  that  he  produces  a  work  of  painting  or  of 
sculpture.  In  other  words,  instead  of  conveying  a  thought 
or  feeling  through  a  posture  of  his  own  body,  he  conveys 
it  through  representing  a  posture  in  a  pictured  man's 
body  ;  and  if  his  conception  have  reference  to  surround- 
ing persons  and  objects,  he  represents  these  latter  as  sur- 
rounding the  pictured  man ; — clouds,  rain,  and  a  waste, 
for  instance,  if  his  idea  be  the  same  as  that  expressed  in 
lines  Hke  these : 

The  clouds  have  broken  in  a  dreary  rain 
And  on  the  waste  I  stand  alone  with  heaven. 

Lady  of  Lyons  :  Bulwer. 


92  ART  TN  THEORY. 

Or  if  his  idea  involve  nothing  that  needs  to  be  rep- 
resented by  human  figures ;  if  it  be  something  that 
could  be  conveyed  by  his  pointing  to  animate  or  in- 
animate objects,  were  they  present  in  a  certain  location, 
then  he  leaves  the  human  figures  out  of  his  picture,  and 
reproduces  merely  these  objects — darkness,  rain,  wind,  a 
clinging  vine,  and  dead  leaves,  for  instance,  if  his  idea  be 
like  that  expressed  in  the  following : 

The  day  is  dark  and  cold  and  dreary, 
It  rains  and  the  wind  is  never  weary  ; 
The  vine  still  clings  to  the  mouldering  wall, 
But  at  every  gust  the  dead  leaves  fall. 

The  Rainy  Day  :  Longfellow, 

Paintings  and  statues  are  thus  external  products  that 
are  embodiments  of  distinctively  human  methods  of  ex- 
pression. But,  besides  this,  notice  how  true  it  is  that 
they  are  not  directed  primarily  toward  ends  of  material 
utility.  The  infinite  pains  taken  with  the  lines,  shadings, 
hues,  and  modellings,  that  alone  make  them  works  of  art, 
cannot  be  explained  on  any  other  supposition  than  that 
they  are  owing  to  the  satisfaction  which  a  man  takes  in 
developing  the  forms  for  the  sake  of  their  own  intrinsic 
beauty,  wholly  aside  from  any  desire  to  make  them  con- 
vey clear  intelligence  of  that  which  they  express.  This 
could  usually  be  conveyed  equally  well  by  the  rude  out- 
lines of  hieroglyphics. 

All  that  has  been  said  may  be  acknowledged,  so  far  as 
the  statements  are  applied  to  products  of  painting  and 
sculpture.  But  how,  it  may  be  asked,  can  they  be  ap- 
plied to  those  of  architecture  ?  The  external  character  of 
its  products  is,  of  course,  evident ;  but  it  has  other 
characteristics,  which  cause  many  to  doubt  whether,  in 


REPRESENTATION  OF  THE  MIND,  93 

important  regards,  it  docs  not  differ  too  greatly  from 
music,  poetry,  painting,  and  sculpture,  to  admit  of  its 
being  placed  in  the  same  class  with  them.  **  Architecture," 
says  Fergusson  in  his  "  History  of  Modern  Architecture," 
*'  is,  in  fact,  nothing  more  than  the  aesthetic  form  of  the 
purely  technic  art  of  building."  ''  Architecture,"  says  Prof. 
Henry  N.  Day  in  his  "Science  of  Esthetics,"  "belongs 
under  the  denomination  of  dependent  beauty,  for  it  char- 
acteristically seeks  an  end  of  utility  "  ;  though  in  another 
place  he  says :  "  It  appears  sometimes  as  properly  a  free 
art."  "In  .  .  .  architecture,"  says  Prof.  John  Bascom 
in  his  "  ^Esthetics  or  Science  of  Beauty,"  "  we  come  yet 
more  immediately  under  the  law  of  utility.  Architecture 
becomes  a  fine  art,  addresses  itself  to  the  tastes  and  feel- 
ings of  men,  through  the  thoughtful  and  emotional  manner 
in  which  the  particular  object  of  protection,  transit,  or 
motion  is  reached."  As  will  be  noticed,  the  idea  in  all 
these  quotations — and  they  might  be  multiplied  almost 
indefinitely — is  the  same.  Architecture  is  sometimes 
technic  and  sometimes  aesthetic,  sometimes  useful,  some- 
times ornamental. 

But  to  some  extent  the  same  holds  true  of  all  the  arts. 
They  are  all  elaborations  of  modes  of  expression  which,  in 
their  natural  forms,  serve  ends  of  material  utility.  An 
ordinary  wood-shed  has  no  more  to  do  with  architecture 
than  the  cry  of  our  nursery,  the  talk  of  our  kitchen,  the 
paint  of  our  stable,  or  the  rock  of  our  curb-stone  has  to 
do  with  the  respective  art  to  which  it  seems  allied, 
whether  music,  poetry,  painting,  or  sculpture. 

But  underlying  all  these  latter  arts,  it  may  be  said, 
there  are  subjective  modes  of  expression,  like  humming, 
speaking,  gesturing,  whereas  architecture  is  always  devel- 
oped from  an  objective  product — a  dwelling.    The  answer 


94  ART  IN  THEORY. 

to  this  is  that,  underlying  architecture  too,  there  are  sub- 
jective modes  of  expression.  There  are  the  ideas,  for 
instance,  of  support  and  shelter ;  and  these  ideas  it  is  by- 
no  means  impossible  or  unusual  to  represent  by  gesture. 
Moreover,  in  all  the  other  arts  too  there  are  objective 
products  intervening  between  the  subjective  and  the 
artistic  forms.  Artificial  resonant  sounds,  spoken  and 
written  language,  hieroglyphic  drawings  and  carvings 
are  conditions  that  antedate  music,  poetry,  painting,  or 
sculpture,  no  less  than  house  building  antedates  architec- 
ture. House  building,  moreover,  according  to  the  princi- 
ples that  have  been  unfolded,  is  no  less  truly  a  form  of 
natural  expression  than  these  others  are.  It  springs  from 
the  nature  of  the  primitive  man,  precisely  as  nest  build- 
ing or  dam-building  from  the  nature  of  the  bird  or  the 
beaver. 

That  architecture  does  not  reproduce  the  forms  of 
nature  in  as  strict  a  sense  as  do  poetry,  painting,  and 
sculpture  is  true ;  yet,  as  we  shall  find  hereafter,  its 
products  are  modelled  upon  these  forms  in  as  strict  a 
sense  as  is  the  case  in  music.  This  art,  like  it,  is  evolved 
from  the  unfolding  of  the  principles  underlying  nature's 
methods  of  formation  even  more  than  from  a  reproduc- 
tion of  its  actual  forms.  And  yet  architecture  does  repro- 
duce these  latter.  The  portico  of  the  Greek  temple  is 
acknowledged  to  be  nothing  more  than  an  elaboration  in 
stone,  for  the  sake  merely  of  elaborating  its  possibilities 
of  beauty,  of  the  rude  wooden  building  with  a  roof  sup- 
ported by  posts,  which  was  used  by  the  primitive  man 
in  his  natural  state.  A  Chinese  or  Japanese  temple  or 
palace,  with  its  many  separate  small  structures,  each  cov- 
ered by  a  roof  sagging  downward  from  the  apex  before 
moving  upward  again  at  the  eaves,  is  nothing  more  than 


REPRESENTA  TION  OF  THE  MIND.  95 

an  elaboration  in  wood,  for  the  sake  of  elaborating  the 
possibilities  of  beauty  in  it,  of  the  rude  tent  used  by  the 
nomadic  ancestors  of  these  people  in  their  primitive 
natural  states.  That  Gothic  columns  and  arches  are 
merely  imitative  elaborations,  for  the  same  reason,  of  the 
methods  and  manners  of  support  suggested  by  arrange- 
ments of  rows  of  tree-trunks  and  their  branches,  has  been 
strenuously  denied  and  even  ridiculed.  But  the  fact  re- 
mains that  an  avenue  of  trees  with  bending  branches 
invariably  suggests  the  effect  of  a  Gothic  cathedral.  If 
so,  why  could  it  not  have  suggested  the  conception  of  a 
Gothic  cathedral  to  the  architect  who  first  planned  one  ? 

Whatever  answer  may  be  given  to  this  question,  or 
whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  previous  statements, 
none  can  fail  to  recall  that  we  frequently  find  in  architec- 
ture actual  reproductions  of  the  figures  of  men,  animals, 
leaves,  and  flowers,  chiselled,  carved,  or  worked  in  some 
way  into  the  ornamentation  ;  and  who  can  say  that  the 
world  has  seen  the  utmost  developments  in  these  direc- 
tions? Why  might  not  the  columns,  walls,  and  ceilings 
of  buildings  be  made  to  suggest,  according  to  methods 
that  present  artistic  taste  would  deem  impossible  of  real- 
ization, the  effects  of  groves  and  glens  with  tree-trunks 
and  rocks  covered  with  leaves  and  vines  ?  Is  it  not  conceiv- 
able in  this  age,  when  artificial  tile  and  brick  and  stone 
can  be  produced  in  all  possible  colors,  and  when  iron  can 
be  moulded  into  beams  and  platings  of  all  possible  shapes, 
that,  with  judicious  selections  of  natural  models  and  artis- 
tic fore-shortenings,  structures  might  be  produced  in 
wholes  or  in  parts  of  which  the  resemblances  to  the  ef- 
fects of  growth  as  manifested  in  the  external  world  would 
be  much  more  close  than  at  present? 

To  answer  either  of  these  questions  in  the  affirmative 


96  ART  IN   THEORY. 

is  to  admit  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  art  itself  neces- 
sarily removing  it  from  a  sphere  very  near  to  that  of 
painting  and  sculpture.  Its  products,  it  is  true,  must 
fulfil  the  purely  technical  principles  of  mechanical  contriv- 
ance. But  so  must  works  of  music  fulfil  the  principles  of 
harmony,  to  say  nothing  of  the  technique  of  execution. 
So  must  works  of  poetry  or  painting  or  sculpture  fulfil 
the  principles  of  rhythm,  rhyme,  grammar,  color,  or  pro- 
portion. But  in  all  these  arts  equally  the  fulfilment  of 
such  laws  is  only  a  means  to  an  end.  That  end  is  the 
distinctively  human  satisfaction  derived  from  elaborating 
forms  in  excess  of  that  which  is  demanded  in  order  to 
meet  the  exigencies  of  material  utiHty,  elaborating  them 
simply  because  they  are  felt  to  be  attractive  and  beautiful 
in  themselves. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    HIGHER    AS    DISTINGUISHED    FROM    OTHER 
REPRESENTATIVE    ARTS. 

Other  Representative  Arts  besides  those  already  Considered — Elocution, 
Pantomime,  Dancing,  Costuming,  Jewelry,  Personal  Adornment,  and 
Dramatic  Art — These  do  not  Necessitate  a  Product  External  to  the 
Artist — Oratory  Necessitates  neither  this  nor  an  End  Different  from 
One  of  Utility — Decorative  Art,  Landscape  Gardening,  and  Artistic 
Phases  of  Civil  Engineering  have  less  Possibilities  of  Expression — 
Yet  All  these  are  Allied  to  the  Higher  Arts  and  Fulfil  the  Same  Prin- 
ciples— What  is  Meant  by  the  Humanities? — Phonetic  and  Plastic  Art 
— Esthetic — Vagueness  of  these  Distinctions — Appropriateness  of  the 
Term  Representative — The  Terms  :  Arts  of  Form,  Beaux  Arts,  Fine 
Arts,  Belles  Lettres  ;  The  Higher,  The  Higher  Esthetic,  and  The 
Higher  Representative  Arts. 

A  N  application  of  the  principles  thus  far  unfolded  to 
the  arts  with  which  we  are  chiefly  concerned,  neces- 
sitates our  making  at  this  point  certain  distinctions,  ren- 
dered possible  through  the  thought  advanced  in  the  preced- 
ing chapter,  between  various  branches  of  that  kind  of  art 
which  may  properly  be  termed  representative.  The  ques- 
tion arises  whether  the  arts  from  which  our  illustrations  have 
been  drawn,  and  which  all  acknowledge  to  be  the  higher 
arts,  are  not  representative  in  some  peculiar  sense  or  man- 
ner ?  If  not  so,  how  can  we  separate  them  from  other  arts 
which  are  at  once  suggested,  which,  indeed,  have  often 
been  mentioned  hitherto  in  this  argument,  but  which,  ac- 
cording to  common  opinion,  at  least,  do  not  possess  quali- 
7  92 


98  ART  IN  THEORY, 

ties  entitling  them  to  be  included  in  the  same  class  with 
music,  poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture  ?  Let 
us,  for  a  little,  consider  this  question. 

It  has  been  said,  for  instance,  that  music  and  poetry  are 
forms  of  representation  developed  from  the  use  of  the 
voice.  But  is  not  the  same  fact  equally  true — indeed,  be- 
cause of  the  more  immediate  connection  traceable,  is  it 
not  more  true — of  elocution  ?  And  if  painting,  sculpture, 
and  architecture  are  forms  of  representation  developed 
from  the  use  of  the  body,  particularly  of  the  hands,  in  ex- 
pression and  construction,  is  not  the  same  fact  true,  and, 
because  of  the  more  immediate  connection  traceable,  more 
true  of  pantomime  and  dancing?  And  if  painting,  sculp- 
ture, and  architecture  again,  can  represent  aesthetically, 
through  the  uses  of  colors,  metals,  or  stones,  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  indicated  by  the  positions,  postures,  or  sur- 
roundings of  the  body,  why  cannot  the  same  be  done  as 
applied  to  the  actual  body  by  the  arts  of  costuming,  jew- 
elry, and  personal  adornment  in  general,  including  certain 
phases  of  upholstery  ?  But  to  pass  to  a  more  dignified  art 
— there  is  the  dramatic.  What  can  be  more  unmistakably 
a  form  of  representation,  or  more  unmistakably  developed 
from  a  use  of  the  human  body?  Now  why  is  it  that  these 
arts — especially  the  dramatic — are  not  included  in  the 
same  class  as  the  five  considered  to  rank  highest. 

The  only  thoroughly  satisfactory  answer  to  this  question 
seems  to  be  the  one  that  follows  logically  upon  the  line  of 
thought  in  the  chapter  preceding  this,  which  answer  is, 
that  none  of  the  arts  last  indicated  necessitate  that  which 
was  shown  to  be  requisite  in  the  cases  of  the  other  five  — 
namely,  an  external  product.  Take  the  dramatic  art — a 
better  term,  by  the  way,  than  histrionic,  though  perhaps, 
because  liable  to  be  confounded  with  dramatic  literature, 


THE  HIGHER  AND  OTHER  REPRESENTATIVE  ARTS.     99 

not  SO  distinctive  a  term  as  dramatics — take  this  art.  In 
important  particulars,  it  certainly  stands  at  the  centre  of 
the  higher  aesthetic  system,  containing  in  itself,  as  it  does, 
the  germs  of  all  its  artistic  possibilities.  It  may  use  not 
alone  the  sustained  intonations  of  the  voice  that  are  de- 
veloped into  melody  and  music,  but  also  the  unsustained 
articulations  that  are  developed  into  language  and  poetry ; 
and  besides  these,  too,  it  may  use  the  posturing  in  con- 
nection with  surrounding  scenes  and  persons  and  stage 
settings  that  are  developed  into  painting,  sculpture,  and 
architecture.  Why  then  is  it  not  usually  included  in  the 
same  class  with  music,  poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  and 
architecture?  Is  not  this  the  reason ? — Because  its  effects 
result  mainly  from  the  use  of  means  of  expression  that  are 
connected  with  the  artist's  own  body,  whereas  the  other 
arts  necessitate  the  use  and  consequent  production  of  a 
medium  of  expression  that  is  external  to  him.  There  is 
little  doubt  that  externality  in  this  sense  is  important  in 
order  to  give  completeness  to  the  conception  of  a  product 
of  art  as  a  thing  that  is  made :  and  there  is  no  doubt  at 
all  that  it  is  important  in  order  to  give  a  conception  of  a 
product  of  superlative  value.  While  the  effects  of  music, 
poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture  are  embodied 
in  such  forms  that  they  can  continue  to  influence  the 
world  through  ages,  the  effects  of  the  dramatic  art,  except 
so  far  as  it  becomes  literature,  die  with  the  actor  who  pro- 
duces them.  Elocution,  pantomime,  dancing,  costuming, 
jewelry,  methods  of  personal  adornment,  and  dramatics, 
are  all  representative  arts ;  but  none  of  them  necessitate 
a  product  external  to  the  man  ;  of  none  of  them  can  it  be 
said  that  they  result  in  "  art-works." 

The  same  statement  applies,  to  some  extent  also,  to 
oratory,  and  to  certain  forms  of  rhetoric.     But  with  refer- 


lOO  ART  IN  THEORY. 

cnce  to  these,  as  also  to  decorative  art,  and  to  landscape 
gardening,  to  say  nothing  of  the  combinations  of  the  latter 
with  architecture  which  characterize  some  of  the  results  of 
civil  engineering,  an  additional  principle  often  operates, 
which  is,  that  they  are  not  solely  and  therefore  are  not 
strictly  representative. 

Oratory  involves  some  of  the  representative  character- 
istics not  only  of  elocution  but  also — and  here  it  is  at  one 
with  rhetoric — of  poetry.  Like  the  latter,  both  oratory  and 
rhetoric  result  in  an  external  product.  But,  counteract- 
ing this  latter  fact,  is  another  which  causes  both  to  differ 
not  only  from  the  dramatic  art  but  equally  from  music, 
poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture.  It  is  the  fact 
that,  at  their  best,  neither  public  address  nor  rhetoric  is 
attributable,  as  we  have  found  to  be  true  of  the  effects  of 
these  arts,  to  the  satisfaction  derived  from  elaborating 
a  form  of  expression  as  a  thing  of  beauty  aside  from  an 
end  of  utility.  Oratory  invariably  springs  from  a  desire 
to  influence,  in  certain  definite  directions,  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  those  to  whom  it  is  addressed.  This  fact 
makes  its  rhetoric  differ  from  poetry  no  less  than  its  de- 
livery does  from  acting.  Anything  that  attracts  atten- 
tion merely  to  the  manner  of  expression,  to  form  as  form, 
is  injurious  both  to  oratory  and  to  rhetoric /^r  se.  But 
it  is  often  essential  to  the  effects  of  the  actor  and  the 
poet. 

Still  more  closely  allied  to  the  arts  that  are  distinctively 
representative,  especially  to  architecture,  are  decoration 
and  landscape  gardening.  Their  products  are  external  to 
the  man,  and  seem  to  spring  from  the  satisfaction  which  he 
takes  in  a  form  of  expression  aside  from  an  end  of  utility. 
Why  then  are  they  not  included  among  the  arts  of  the 
highest   character?     Perhaps   they    should   be.     At    the 


THE  HIGHER  AND  OTHER  REPRESENTATIVE  ARTS.    10 1 

same  time,  there  are  reasons  justifying  the  course  of  those 
who  assign  them  to  a  lower  rank.  Their  effects,  especially 
those  of  landscape  gardening,  are  produced  through  a  use 
of  inanimate  nature  not  wholly  out  of  analogy  with  that 
in  which  those  of  the  dramatic  are  produced  through  a 
use  of  the  human  form.  And  besides  this,  although  con- 
ventional figures  and  gardens  and  parks  are  certainly 
works  of  nature  made  human,  it  is  a  question  whether  an 
ornamientation  by  colors  and  outlines,  often  merely  con- 
ventional, neither  imitative  of  nature,  nor  suggestive  to 
the  mind ;  or  whether  fields  or  forests  however  transformed 
by  the  hand  of  man,  can  express  or  address  the  sympathies 
and  intellect  in  the  same  sense,  to  say  nothing  of  degree 
in  which  the  works  of  the  arts  of  the  highest  rank  do 
this.  The  majority  of  people  seem  to  think  not  ;  and  as 
common  opinion  has  been  the  test  which  we  have  applied 
hitherto,  we  are  justified  in  applying  it  here. 

All  the  arts,  however,  that  have  just  been  mentioned 
— especially  elocution,  pantomime,  dancing,  costuming, 
dramatics,  oratory,  decorative  art  and  landscape  garden- 
ing— are,  either  wholly  or  partly,  representative  in 
character,  and  thus  necessarily  have  many  features  in 
common  with  the  arts  that  it  is  the  special  object  of  this 
essay  to  consider.  For  this  reason,  references  will  often 
be  made  to  them  ;  and  in  many  places  they  will  be  treated 
as  themselves  belonging  to  the  class  in  which  the  ordinary 
judgment  of  men  allows  us  to  place  only  music,  poetry, 
painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture. 

Indeed,  elocution,  pantomime,  dancing,  dramatics,  and 
oratory  are  often  grouped  with  these  latter  arts ;  and  all 
together  called  "■  the  humanities."  A  special  appropriate- 
ness will  be  recognized  too  in  applying  this  term  to  them. 
They  are  the  arts  through  which  a  man  can  cause  forms, 


102  ART  IN  THEORY, 

otherwise  often  merely  material  in  their  influence,  to  thrill 
and  glow  with  emotion  and  meaning;  through  which  he 
can  show  himself  able  to  breathe,  as  it  were,  something  of 
that  sympathetic  and  intellectual  life  which  has  already 
given  life  and  humanity  to  his  own  material  frame. 

For  similar  reasons  we  can  recognize,  as  applied  mainly 
to  poetry,  painting,  and  sculpture,  the  origin  of  the  term 
phonetic,  from  the  Greek  cpaovi},  a  sound,  the  conception 
being  that  the  forms  of  these  arts  are  peculiarly  related 
to  the  expression  of  thought  and  feeling,  and  so  resemble 
the  use  of  the  human  voice  in  language.  Strictly  applied, 
however,  the  term  would  be  used  only  for  arts  that 
actually  make  use  of  sound  ;  and  in  this  sense  would  form 
the  true  contrast  to  the  term  plastic,  from  the  Greek 
TtXaGtiKoiy  fit  for  moulding,  which  is  applied  only  to  art- 
products  made  by  the  hands. 

It  may  be  as  well  to  add  here  too  that  the  term 
aesthetics,  first  used  by  Baumgarten  in  his  book  called 
**  Aesthetica,"  published  in  Germany  in  1750, — a  term  de- 
rived from  the  Greek  aiadrfriKoi  and  meaning  fitted  to  be 
perceived,  is  used  by  some,  as  by  Fergusson  in  his  "  History 
of  Architecture,"  to  apply  more  particularly,  by  way  of 
distinction  from  phonetic,  to  music,  architecture,  and 
gardening,  as  well  as  also,  with  gradually  lessening  ap- 
propriateness, to  ceramique,  clothing,  jewelry,  gastronomy, 
joinery,  and  heating. 

There  seems  to  be  no  great  need  for  this  distinction. 
Phonetic,  indicating,  as  it  does,  not  merely  a  relationship  be- 
tween expression  and  sound,  but  between  language  and  all 
art,  as  if  its  chief  aim  were  to  be  a  substitute  for  language, 
is  a  term  misleading  in  itself  (see  page  50) ;  and  it  sepa- 
rates uselessly  arts  belonging  to  the  same  class  ;  and 
cesthetics  is  a  general  term  which  can  be  rightly  applied 


THE  HIGHER  AND  OTHER  REPRESENTA  TIVE  ARTS.    I03 

to  the  whole  class  of  the  arts  with  which  we  are  now  to 
deal.  It  may  be  applied,  in  fact,  to  every  form  or  ap- 
pearance, whether  appeahng  to  the  ear  or  eye,  which  has 
been  fitted  especially  to  be  perceived — in  other  words, 
adapted  to  the  requirements  of  the  senses  (see  page  9). 

The  most  distinctive  term  applicable  to  all  the  arts 
of  which  we  are  to  treat,  and  applicable  to  these,  too, 
in  all  its  meanings,  appears  to  be  the  term  representa- 
tive. As  a  proof  of  both  the  exactness  and  comprehen- 
siveness of  this  designation,  notice,  as  already  pointed  out 
in  the  last  page  but  one  of  the  Preface,  that  there  are 
none  of  the  products  of  these  arts,  the  chief  excellences 
and  deficiencies  of  which  cannot  be  suggested  by  an 
endeavor  to  answer  the  question,  *'What  does  it  repre- 
sent ? "  The  answer,  moreover,  will  direct  attention 
equally  well  to  the  natural  appearances  reproduced  in  the 
product  and  to  the  thoughts  or  feelings  expressed  in  it. 
Ask  a  number  of  persons,  for  instance,  what  a  certain 
musical  composition  or  passage  represents.  If  half  of 
them  assert  it  to  be  a  tempest  in  a  forest  followed  by  sun- 
shine, or  a  storm  at  sea  followed  by  a  calm  ;  the  other 
half  will  assert  it  to  be  opposition,  conflict,  and  victory  in 
thought ;  or  anxiety,  terror,  and  restfulness  in  feeling. 
As  a  proof  of  this  statement,  read  the  results  of  an  ex- 
periment of  playing  thirteen  musical  selections  before 
twenty-eight  persons,  recording  their  impressions,  as 
related  in  an  article  on  "  Musical  Expressiveness,"  pub- 
lished by  Benjamin  Ives  Oilman,  in  the  "American 
Journal  of  Psychology,"  for  May,  1893.  So  with  poems, 
pictures,  or  statues.  If  to  some  they  represent  charac- 
ters, occurrences,  or  scenes, — speaking,  acting,  or  appear- 
ing in  any  way  as  they  naturally  would  in  real  life  or  in 
the  real  world, — they   represent    to    others,  by   way   of 


I04  ART  IN  THEORY, 

analogy  if  no  more,  ideas,  emotions,  moods,  types,  ex- 
pressed or  suggested,  which  can  exist  only  in  mental 
conception.  And  so,  too,  with  buildings.  While  to  some 
they  may  mainly  represent  natural  proportions  and 
methods  of  adapting  means  to  ends  in  securing  shelter 
and  support ;  or,  at  times,  indeed,  as  in  the  contours  of 
towers  or  vistas  of  colonnades,  the  actual  natural  appear- 
ances of  cliffs  and  forests ;  to  others  they  represent 
mainly  certain  ideas  embodied  in  the  designs — strength, 
repose,  dignity,  gracefulness,  aspiration.  Full  confirma- 
tion of  these  statements,  together  with  illustrations  of 
their  applicability  to  the  minutest  details  of  form  and 
significance,  will  be  given  in  the  volumes  of  this  series 
entitled  *'  Poetry  as  a  Representative  Art,"  '*  Painting, 
Sculpture,  and  Architecture  as  Representative  Arts,"  and 
"  Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry  and  Music."  In  this 
place,  the  general  appropriateness  of  the  term  representa- 
tive, is  all  that  the  reader  need  recognize. 

At  the  same  time,  we  must  not  forget  that  this  term  is 
applicable  to  a  whole  department  of  art,  of  which  the  arts 
just  mentioned  form  only  a  single  class.  What  peculiarly 
distinguishes  these  is  the  objective,  external  character  of 
the  product.  In  a  stricter  sense  than  is  true  of  the  other 
arts,  they  necessitate  embodiment,  or  form.  This  fact 
might  lead  us  to  term  them  "  The  Representative  Arts  of 
Form."  But,  in  a  broad  sense,  all  the  other  representa- 
tive arts  necessitate  form.  Have  these  higher  ones,  then, 
any  peculiarities  of  form  ?  A  feature  essential  to  them, 
and  not  to  all  the  others,  is  beauty.  This  might  justify 
our  using  the  French  terms  "  Les  Beaux  Arts,"  applying 
it  to  all  the  higher  arts,  including  poetry ;  or,  as  the 
French  themselves  do,  only  to  music  and  the  arts  of 
sight,  which  latter  we  term  '*  The  Fine  Arts,"  and  using,  as 


THE  HIGHER  AND  OTHER  REPRESENTATIVE  ARTS.    105 

applied  to  literature,  the  other  French  term,  "  Belles 
Lettres."  But  here,  again,  while  perhaps  certain  phases 
of  elocution,  oratory,  and  the  dramatic  art  do  not  neces- 
sitate beauty  in  connection  with  representation,  dancing, 
pantomime,  and  landscape  gardening  cannot  ignore  it. 
For  all  these  reasons,  there  seems  to  be  no  distinctive 
term  for  these  arts  of  the  highest  rank  better  than  that 
which  we  have  been  forced  to  use  hitherto,  namely,  "  The 
Higher  Arts/* — a  term  which  can  be  changed  into  "  The 
Higher  ^Esthetic  Arts,"  if  we  wish  to  emphasize  chiefly 
their  effects  upon  the  senses ;  and  into  ''  The  Higher 
Representative  Arts,"  if  we  wish  to  emphasize  also  their 
effects  upon  the  mind. 


CHAPTER  X. 

REPRESENTATION  IN  ART  AS  DETERMINED  BY  NATURAL 
APPEARANCES  :     THEORIES   CONCERNING  BEAUTY. 

Form  as  Manifested  in  Nature  and  Reproduced  in  Art — Characteristically 
Possesses  Beauty — This  should  Predominate  over  the  Ugly,  but  Need 
not  Exclude  it — The  Distinction  sometimes  Drawn  between  Beauty 
and  Expression — Necessity  for  a  Definition  of  Beauty — The  Three 
General  Views  with  Reference  to  it — Mention  of  Writers  Conditioning 
it  upon  Form — Of  Writers  Conditioning  it  upon  Expression  Traceable 
to  Man — To  a  Source  above  the  Man — The  German  Idealists- 
Mention  of  Writers  Conditioning  Beauty  partly  upon  Form  and 
partly  upon  Expression — The  Term  Beauty  as  ordinarily  Used  Indi- 
cates a  Truth  in  All  Three  Theories,  so  far  as  they  do  not  Exclude  the 
Truth  in  the  Others — Beauty  may  be  in  Form  aside  from  that  in  Ex- 
pression— It  may  be  in  Expression  aside  from  that  in  Form — But 
Beauty  is  Complete  only  in  the  Degree  in  which  that  of  Form  and  of 
Expression  are  Combined. 

A  N  attempt  will  now  be  made  to  show,  as  promised  on 
page  64,  how,  as  directed  by  the  art-impulse,  the 
reciprocal  effects  of  nature  and  of  mind  are  represented 
as  determined  chiefly  by  such  of  their  features  as 
come  from  nature.  Later  on,  we  shall  consider  the  same 
effects  as  determined  chiefly  by  such  of  their  features 
as  come  from  the  mind.  As  stated  on  page  64,  the 
first  of  these  subjects  necessitates  a  discussion  of  the 
character  of  form  in  general  as  manifested  in  nature  and 
reproduced  in  art ;  and  a  discussion,  therefore,  as  con- 
nected with  this,  for  reasons  to  be  given  presently,  of  the 
general  character  of  beauty. 

io6 


REPRESENTATION  BY  NATURAL  APPEARANCES.        10/ 

The  chief  of  these  reasons,  indeed,  has  already  been 
indicated.  As  pointed  out  on  page  83,  the  art-impulse, 
owing  to  its  very  nature,  i,  ^.,  to  the  spontaneous  and  un- 
necessitated  character  of  all  its  activity,  invariably  tends 
to  choose  for  representation  such  appearances  as  exert 
upon  the  mind  that  subtle  charm  which  in  some  way  is 
connected  with  what  men  term  beauty.  It  is  only  natural, 
therefore,  in  view  of  this  fact,  that  it  should  be  held 
almost  universally  that  in  reproducing  the  effects  of 
nature,  art  should  give  the  preference  to  such  as  have 
this  quality.  To  what  extent  this  preference  should  be 
given,  is  not  so  well  established  ;  but  usually  the  amount 
of  beauty  is  deemed  sufficient  if  it  merely  predominate. 

An  authority,  indeed,  ranking  as  high  as  Gotthold 
Ephraim  Lessing  is  often  quoted  as  saying,  in  his  famous 
criticism  of  the  "■  Laocoon,"  to  use  the  language  of  a  trans- 
lation by  E.  Frothingham,  that  the  "  Greek  artist  repre- 
sented nothing  that  was  not  beautiful.  Even  the  vulgarly 
beautiful,  the  beauty  of  the  inferior  type,  he  copied  only 
incidentally  for  practice  or  recreation.  The  perfection  of 
the  subject  must  charm  in  his  work.  .  .  .  He  con- 
fined it  strictly  to  the  imitation  of  beauty."  It  is  a 
question,  however,  whether  these  words  were  intended  to 
mean  as  much  as  is  suggested  upon  first  reading  them. 
This  all  depends  upon  what  Lessing  meant  by  the  term 
beauty.  He  may  have  meant  to  include  in  it  effects  of 
contrast  produced  often  in  objects  of  both  nature  and  art 
by  the  presence  in  them  of  certain  features  not  beautiful 
in  themselves.  And  what  else  could  he  have  meant  ?  A 
very  little  observation  will  convince  any  one  that  in  the 
very  statue  of  the  "  Laocoon,"  which  he  was  then  criticising, 
as  well  as  in  that  of  the  allied  ^'  Group  of  the  Niobe,"  to 
say   nothing   of    innumerable    Greek    representations   of 


I08  ART  IN  THEORY. 

satyrs,  there  is  much,  even  in  the  expressions  of  the 
countenances,  where,  if  anywhere,  one  might  expect  to 
find  beauty,  which  is  not  beautiful  in  itself.  It  is  the 
same  with  the  demons  and  dragons  that  Michael  Angelo 
and  Raphael  introduce  into  so  many  of  their  composi- 
tions, as  well  as  with  the  criminals  and  peasants  that 
appear  on  so  many  of  the  canvases  of  later  painters. 
How,  too,  with  the  villains  and  crimes  portrayed  in 
poems  and  dramas,  the  drums  and  cymbals  in  music, 
and  the  gargoyles  and  griffins  in  architecture?  Certainly, 
facts  do  not  confirm  any  theory  to  the  effect  that  all  the 
features  chosen  for  art  should  be  beautiful.  The  most 
that  can  be  said  is  that  in  the  main  they  should  be  so  ; 
and  that  those  which  are  not  so  should  be  introduced 
only  in  order,  by  way  of  contrast,  to  enhance  the  beauty 
of  others  with  which  they  are  combined. 

Even  admitting,  however,  that  ugliness  is  allowable  for 
purposes  of  contrast,  many  writers  are  inclined  to  treat 
the  latter  as  if  it  were  a  mere  mental  requirement.  In 
other  words,  they  are  inclined  to  look  upon  a  certain 
amount  of  ugHness  as  excusable  only  so  far  as  needed  in 
order  to  cause  a  work  of  art  to  be  expressive  of  thought 
or  feeling.  They  thus  draw  a  distinction  between  beauty 
and  expression  similar  to  that  which  seems  to  accompany, 
as  a  postulate,  the  assertion  of  H.  Taine  in  his  "  Philosophy 
of  Art,"  as  translated  by  John  Durand,  page  82,  that  "the 
end  of  a  work  of  art  is  to  manifest  some  essential  or 
saHent  character,  consequently  some  important  idea, 
clearer  and  more  completely  than  is  attainable  from  real 
objects " ;  and  similar  also  to  that  which  seems  to  be 
indicated,  though  it  is  not  meant  in  this  sense,  by  G. 
Baldwin  Brown,  who,  on  page  153  of  one  of  the  most 
suggestive  of  our  recent  works  on  the  "  Fine  Arts,"  has 


REPRESENTATION  BY  NATURAL  APPEARANCES,        109 

a  section  entitled  "  Beauty  and  Significance."  An  in. 
disputable  adoption  of  this  view,  however,  is  manifested 
in  writers  like  J.  G.  Mac  Vicar,  who,  in  his  essay  "On  the 
Beautiful,  the  Picturesque,  and  the  Sublime,"  declares  that 
"  the  most  regularly  beautiful  countenances  are  usually 
the  most  inexpressive."  A  similar  conception  is  sug- 
gested, too,  in  a  note  on  page  89  of  J.  H.  Bernard's  transla- 
tion of  Kant's  "  Kritik  der  Urtheilskraft."  "  It  will  be 
found,"  it  is  said  there,  *'  that  a  perfectly  regular  counte- 
nance, such  as  a  painter  might  wish  to  have  for  a  model, 
ordinarily  tells  us  nothing,  because  it  contains  nothing 
characteristic,  and  therefore  rather  expresses  the  idea  of 
the  race  than  the  specific  traits  of  a  person.  Experience 
also  shows  us  that  these  quite  regular  countenances  com- 
monly indicate  internally  only  a  mediocre  man,  presumably 
because  if  no  mental  disposition  exceeds  that  proportion 
which  is  requisite  in  order  to  constitute  a  man  free  from 
faults,  nothing  can  be  expected  of  what  is  called  genius, 
in  which  nature  seems  to  depart  from  the  ordinary  rela- 
tions of  the  mental  powers  on  behalf  of  some  special 
one." 

The  acceptance  or  rejection  of  this  opinion  with  refer- 
ence to  the  extent  to  which  art  can  deal  with  that  which 
is  not  beautiful,  must  depend,  of  course,  as  has  already 
been  suggested,  on  the  definition  that  is  adopted  of 
beauty  itself.  Those  who  claim  that,  even  as  manifested 
in  forms  of  nature,  it  includes  effects  so  appealing  to  the 
mind  that  they  can  be  rightly  considered  to  be  effects  of 
significance,  will,  of  course,  differ  greatly  in  their  conclu- 
sions from  those  who  say  that  it  excludes  these  effects ; 
and  we  shall  find  presently  that,  for  each  side  of  the  ques- 
tion, there  are  abundant  advocates. 

Both  parties,  however,  agree  in  the  statement  made  a 


no  ART  IN  THEORY. 

moment  ago,  namely,  that,  in  the  main,  works  of  art 
should  be  characterized  by  beauty  as  distinguished  from 
ugliness ;  and  as  agreement  with  reference  to  this  fact 
alone  is  a  sufificient  basis  on  which  to  build  the  discus- 
sion that  is  now  to  follow,  we  may  proceed  at  once 
to  it.  Beauty  being  acknowledged  to  be  a  predominating 
characteristic  in  works  of  art  and  in  appearances  of  na- 
ture fitted  to  be  reproduced  by  it,  there  can  evidently  be 
no  thorough  understanding  of  its  methods  until  in  some 
way  an  answer  has  been  given  to  the  question.  What  is 
beauty  ?  Indeed,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  this  question 
lies  at  the  basis  of  almost  all  the  subjects  which  we  have 
been  considering  since  the  opening  of  Chapter  II.  For 
if  men  think  with  the  classicists  of  the  extreme  type  men- 
tioned there,  that  the  chief  end  of  art  is  imitation,  either 
of  classic  models  or  of  nature,  is  it  not  because,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  they  hold  to  a  belief  that  beauty  is  con- 
ditioned mainly  upon  form?  And  if,  on  the  contrary, 
they  think  with  the  romanticists  that  the  chief  end  of  art 
is  the  expression  of  ideas,  is  it  not  because  they  believe 
that  beauty  is  a  result  of  thought  or  feeling  either  of 
the  human  mind  as  in  art,  or  of  the  creative  mind,  as, 
according  to  the  Platonists,  in  nature?  The  inference, 
therefore,  from  what  has  been  said  hitherto,  is  that  there 
must  be  some  who  attribute  beauty  to  form  ;  and  some 
who  attribute  it  to  the  thought  or  feeling  expressed  in  the 
form,  with  a  probability  also  of  the  existence  of  some  who 
attribute  it  partly  to  the  one  source  and  partly  to  the 
other. 

This  inference  a  very  slight  survey  of  facts  will  confirm. 
All  theories  ever  held  on  the  subject  may  be  classified 
in  accordance  with  their  tendencies  in  one  of  these 
three  directions.    With  those  who  believe  beauty  to  be 


REPRESENTA  TION  BY  NA  TURAL  APPEARANCES,       1 1 1 

conditioned  upon  form,  we  may  place  not  only  writers 
avowedly  tracing  the  sources  of  art  to  imitation,  as  was 
done  by  the  chief  authority  on  this  subject  in  France  in 
the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  Abb6  Charles 
Batteux,  in  his  *'  Cours  de  Belles-Lettres  "  and  his  ''  Les 
Beaux-Arts  R^duits  a  un  Meme  Principe  " ;  by  Voltaire 
and  Denys  Diderot  in  their  articles  in  the  "  Encyclopedie,'* 
the  one  on  "  Gout,"  and  the  other  on  "  Beaute,"  in  the 
latter  of  which  the  sole  corrective  of  errors  in  art  was  said 
to  be  to  "go  back  to  nature  " ;  and  also  by  T.  B.  fimeric- 
David,  in  his  "  Recherches  sur  TArt  Statuaire,"  etc. ;  but 
we  may  place  here,  too,  writers — though  some  would  ob- 
ject to  this  classification — whose  deductions  are  logical 
only  upon  the  supposition  that  certain  conditions  of  form, 
whenever  they  are  perceived,  affect  the  ear  or  eye  in  a 
certain  way,  and  that  their  influence  upon  thought  or 
feeling  is  invariably  determined  by  their  preliminary  in- 
fluence upon  the  senses.  Such  deductions  we  have  in  the 
writings  of  Aristotle,  the  supposed  originator  of  this  opin- 
ion ;  in  those  of  M.  Vitruvius  PolHo,  in  his  "  De  Architec- 
tura  " ;  of  Alex.  G.  Baumgarten,  mingled,  however,  with 
tendencies  in  the  direction  of  idealism,  in  the  earliest 
German  essay  on  this  subject,  his  *'  Aesthetica  "  ;  of  his 
successor,  Johann  Georg  Sulzer,  who,  in  his  *'  AUgemeine 
Theorie  der  Schonen  Kiinste,"  declares  objects  to  be 
beautiful  not  subjectively,  but  in  themselves  ;  of  Gotthold 
E.  Lessing,  whose  whole  discussion  in  the  "  Laocoon  "  is 
founded  on  the  supposition  of  the  intrinsic  beauty  or 
ugliness  of  subjects  chosen  for  artistic  reproduction ;  of 
the  English  writer,  Edmund  Burke,  who,  in  his  "  Essay 
on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful,"  argues  mainly  upon  a 
similar  supposition ;  of  William  Gilpin,  who  follows  the 
same  course  in  "  Three  Essays  on  Picturesque  Beauty  " ; 


112  ART  IN  THEOR  V. 

of  Richard  Price,  a  contemporry  of  Burke's,  who,  in  his 
"  Review  of  the  Principal  Questions  of  Morals,"  attributes 
beauty  to  "  objects  as  such  ";  of  Sir  Chas.  Bell,  whose 
essays  on  "  The  Anatomy  and  Philosophy  of  Expression 
as  Connected  with  the  Fine  Arts  "  are  argued  from  a 
realistic  basis,  the  superiority  of  the  Greeks  being  attributed 
merely  to  a  "  more  extended  study  of  nature  " ;  of  Wil- 
liam Hazlitt,  who,  in  his  "  Essay  on  the  Fine  Arts,"  says 
that  the  works  of  the  great  masters  are  all  "  careful  copies 
from  nature  "  ;  of  the  Dutch  Humbert  de  Superville,  who, 
in  his  "  Signes  Inconditionnels  de  TArt,"  insists  upon  cer- 
tain directions  of  outlines  as  indicative  of  character  in  the 
human  countenance  and  in  inanimate  forms  resembling  it ; 
of  H.  G.  A.  L.  Flock,  of  the  same  nationality,  who,  in  his 
"  Populaire  aesthetische  Beshouwingen  over  de  Sym- 
metric of  de  Bevallige  Proportien,"  presents  a  theory 
similar  in  principle,  though  different  in  detail,  to  that  of 
Zeising,  to  be  mentioned  below,  as  does  also  D.  R.  Hay, 
as  appears,  indeed,  from  the  very  titles  of  his  books,  like 
"  Proportion,  or  the  Geometric  Principles  of  Beauty,"  etc.; 
of  William  Bellars,  whose  **  Fine  Arts  and  Their  Uses  " 
declares  that  it  is  by  "  comparing  one  of  nature's  products 
with  another  that  we  find  the  standard  of  beauty  " ;  of  the 
American  S.  P.  Long,  who,  in  his  "  Art,  its  Laws,  and  the 
Reasons  for  Them,"  treats  of  beauty  as  ^'  inherent "  in 
objects  of  perception;  and  of  many  modern  critics  like  J. 
McNeill  Whistler,  who  says  in  "  The  Gentle  Art  of  Making 
Enemies  "  that  "  the  subject-matter  has  nothing  to  do 
with  harmony  of  sound  or  of  color  "  ;  and  that  "  art  .  .  . 
should  .  .  .  appeal  to  the  artistic  sense  of  eye  or  ear, 
without  confounding  this  with  emotions  entirely  foreign 
to  it,  as  devotion,  pity,  love,  patriotism,  and  the  like." 
Finally,  we  seem  justified  in  including  among  these  writers 


REPRESENTA  TION  B  Y  NA  TURAL  APPEA RANGES.        1 1 3 

attributing  beauty  to  form,  those  who  do  this  indirectly 
by  holding  that  the  higher  phases  of  feeling  which  we 
term  aesthetic  have  come  to  be  produced  in  the  course  of 
the  development  of  the  organism  through  simple  experi- 
ences of  pleasure  and  pain  in  the  eye  or  ear.  This  is  really 
the  basis  of  the  theories  of  the  German  Adolf  Zeising, 
who,  in  his  "  Aesthetische  Forschungen,"  insists  upon 
certain  fixed  ratios  of  numbers  as  governing  all  acceptable 
proportions;  of  H.  L.  F.  von  Helmholtz,  who  applies 
physical  laws  not  only  to  music  but  to  other  arts  in  his 
*'  Die  Lehre  von  der  Tonempfindungen,"  etc. ;  of  Charles 
Darwin  and  Herbert  Spencer,  as  a  necessary  sequence  of 
the  evolutionary  theories  unfolded  by  the  one  in  his 
''  Descent  of  Man,"  and  by  the  other  in  his  "  Principles  of 
Psychology,"  and  of  Grant  Allen,  who  has  further  devel- 
oped the  same  in  his  *'  Physiological  Esthetics." 

On  the  other  hand,  with  those  who  beHeve  beauty  to 
be  conditioned  upon  significance,  we  may  place,  lowest 
on  the  list,  the  English  school  of  writers  who  refer  it  to 
the  "  associations  "  suggested  by  objects,  beginning  with 
Archibald  Alison,  who  published,  near  the  end  of  the  last 
century,  his  "  Essay  on  the  Nature  and  Principles  of 
Taste,"  and  followed  by  Lord  Francis  Jeffrey  in  an  "  Es- 
say on  Beauty,"  by  Dr.  Thomas  Brown  with  develop- 
ments of  the  same  theory  in  his  "  Lectures  on  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,"  and,  in  more  recent 
times,  in  part  at  least,  by  Thomas  Purdie  in  his  ''  Form 
and  Sound."  On  a  higher  level,  considered  in  their  relation 
to  idealism,  we  may  place  the  writers  who  seem  to  look 
upon  beauty  as  something  not  merely  suggested  by  forms, 
but,  as  it  were,  embodied  in  them  and  expressed  through 
them.  Among  these  we  may  place  the  German  U.  W.  F. 
Solger,  who,  in  his  "  Vorlesungen  iiber  Aesthetik,"  at- 


1 14  ART  IN  THEOR Y. 

tributes  it  to  objects  for  "  what  they  symbolize  "  ;  also 
the  Swiss  Rodolphe  Topffer,  who,  in  his  *'  Reflexions 
et  Menus-Propos  d'un  Peintre  Genevois — ou  Essai  sur  le 
Beau  dans  les  Arts,"  holds  that  it  comes  from  *'  human 
thought  liberated  from  every  obstacle  except  the  revelation 
of  itself  through  the  use  of  natural  appearances  "  ;  and  the 
American  John  Bascom,  who,  in  his  ''-Esthetics,  or  Science 
of  Beauty,"  attributes  it,  in  the  arts  of  sight,  to  the  "  utter- 
ance in  visible  form  of  some  thought  or  feeling."  It  is  but 
a  slight  step  from  the  position  of  these  writers  to  that  of 
the  German  Arthur  Schopenhauer,  who,  in  his  "  Die  Welt 
als  Wille  und  Vorstellung,"  and  also  in  his  *'  Metaphysik 
des  Schonen  und  Aesthetik,"  asserts  that  things  are  beauti- 
ful in  the  degree  in  which  they  conform  to  the  type  or 
ideal,  meaning  by  this  something  the  source  of  which  is 
not  traceable  beyond  the  influence  of  man  or  nature. 

But,  almost  without  exception,  those  who  adopt  this 
view  go  further  and  ascribe  this  type  or  ideal  to  some 
conditioning  cause  that  is  above  and  behind  man  or  nature. 
With  these  we  may  rank,  of  course,  all  the  Platonists, 
beginning  with  Plotinus  and  Proclus  and  coming  down 
through  such  systems  as  were  represented,  in  the  third 
century,  by  the  lost  "  De  Apto  et  Pulchro  "  of  St.  Augus- 
tine ;  in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  by 
"  La  Vite  di  Pittori,  Scultori,  ed  Architetti  moderni  "  of 
the  Italian  J.  P.  Bellori ;  in  the  latter  part  of  the  same 
century,  in  England,  by  the  ''  Alciphron,  or  the  Minute 
Philosopher,"  of  Bishop  George  Berkeley  ;  and  in  this 
century,  in  Switzerland,  by  the  ''  Du  Beau  dans  la  Nature, 
I'Art  et  la  Poesie  "  of  Adolphe  Pictet,  and  by  the  "  Journal 
Intime  "  of  H.  F.  Amiel ;  in  France  by  the  "  Discours  "  of 
A.  C.  Quatremere  de  Quincy,  and  by  the  "  Proclus  "  and 
"  Du  Vrai,  du  Beau,  et  du  Bien  "  of  Victor  Cousin  ;  by  the 


REP  RE  SEN  TA  TION  BY  NA  TURAL  APPEARANCES.        1 1 5 

"  Cours  d'Esthetique"  of  Theodore  Jouffroy,  who,  however, 
departed  from  the  system  of  his  teacher  Cousin  in  giving 
more  emphasis  to  the  real,  which  the  ideal  was  represented 
as  transcending  ;  by  '*  La  Science  du  Beau  "  of  Charles 
L^veque  ;  in  Italy  by  the  "  Letteratura  e  Arti  Belle  "  of 
A.  Rosmini-Serbati ;  in  Holland  by  the  "  De  Socratische 
School "  of  P.  W.  van  Hensde ;  and  in  England  by  such 
works  as  the  ''  Essays  on  the  Fine  Arts  "  of  S.  T.  Coleridge, 
"  The  Beautiful  in  Nature,  Art,  and  Life  "  of  A.  J.  Syming- 
ton, and  the  ''  Discourses  on  Beauty  "  of  J.  S.  Blackie. 

As  Platonic  in  general  tendency  also,  though  deviating 
from  this  system  with  profound  originality,  and  claiming 
to  harmonize  it  with  the  Aristotelian  theory,  we  must 
class  the  great  German  idealists  of  the  beginning  of  this 
century,  especially  Immanuel  Kant,  who,  in  his  "  Kritik 
der  Urtheilskraft,**  argues  from  the  appearance  of  reason 
and  intelligence  in  nature,  combined  with  the  universaHty 
with  which  the  same  appearances  in  it  are  recognized  as 
beautiful,  that  the  source  of  beauty  is  in  the  vernnnft 
or  reason  ;  F.  W.  J.  ScheUing,  who,  in  his  "Aesthetik," 
claims  that  in  nature  the  absolute  reveals  itself,  and  that 
the  work  of  art  is  to  "  rend  the  veil "  in  which  the  reason 
in  nature  is  hidden  ;  and  G.  W.  F.  Hegel,  the  foundation 
principle  of  whose  department  of  the  philosophy  of  the 
absolute  devoted  to  "  Aesthetik  "  is  that  "  beauty  is  the 
revelation  of  mind  or  the  idea  through  sensuous  appear- 
ances." Differing  not  radically  from  these,  though  writ- 
ing with  the  avowed  purpose  of  counteracting  their  too 
idealistic  tendencies,  we  must  place  F.  T.  Vischer,  a  fol- 
lower of  Hegel,  who,  in  his  "  Aesthetik  oder  Wissenschaft 
des  Schonen,"  by  introducing  still  more  pronounced  pan- 
theistic conceptions  into  Platonism,  endeavored  to  associ- 
ate an  element  of  actual  beauty  with  each  individual  form, 


1 1 6  AkT  IN  THEOR  V. 

and  Moritz  Carri^re  who,  in  his  *'  Das  Wesen  und  die 
Formen  der  Poesie  "  and  his  ''  Aesthetik,"  opposed  the 
pantheism  of  Vischer,  holding  that  beauty  consists  in  a 
certain  unity  of  idea  underlying  various  and  different  in- 
dividual and  concrete  forms  of  sense. 

Besides  these  two  classes  of  writers  of  whom  we  have 
spoken,  it  has  been  said  that  there  is  a  third  class,  who 
attribute  beauty  partly  to  the  nature  of  the  form,  and 
partly  to  the  ideas  or  ideal  expressed  through  it.  These 
writers  are  not  always  clearly  distinguishable,  because 
their  very  endeavors  to  do  justice  to  both  sides  of  the 
question  almost  necessarily  render  certain  of  their  state- 
ments upon  one  side,  when  taken  alone,  apparently 
exclusive  of  what  they  are  really  willing  to  concede  to 
the  other  side. 

Few,  of  course,  incorporate  the  absolute  contradictions 
intentionally  introduced  by  C.  V.  Cherbuliez  into  his 
ingenious  discussion  over  a  horse  carved  on  a  metope  of 
the  Parthenon,  entitled  "  A  Propos  d'un  Cheval,  Causeries 
Ath^niennes  "  ;  but  there  is  this  tendency  in  all  of  them. 
It  might  be  supposed,  for  instance,  that  those  who  accept 
what  is  termed  the  "  natural-history  conception  "  of  the 
development  of  the  higher  aesthetic  from  the  lower  animal 
sensibilities,  would  not  belong  to  this  class.  But  many 
of  them  unmistakably  do,  giving  full  credit  to  the  influ- 
ence both  of  the  physical  and  of  the  psychological.  One 
school  of  these  writers,  approaching  this  result  from  the 
reaHstic  side,  is  represented  by  such  men  as  J.  F.  Herbart, 
who,  in  his  "  Psychologie  und  Hauptpunkte  der  Meta- 
physik,"  says  that  the  subjective  phenomenon,  or  the  idea 
(due  to  sense-influence),  implies  an  objective  reality  of  the 
truth  of  which  it  is  the  assurance  and  test ;  as  G.  T.  Fech- 
ner,  who,  in  his  ''  Vorschule  der  Aesthetik,"  declares  that 


REPRESENTATION  BY  NATURAL   APPEARANCES.    II7 

both  imitation  and  idealization  are  necessary  in  art ;  as 
Rudolf  Hermann  Lotze,  who  in  his  **  Outlines  of  -Es- 
thetics "  as  translated  by  Professor  G.  T.  Ladd,  an  Ameri- 
can philosopher  of  the  same  school,  starts  out  with  the 
proposition  that  *'  the  beautiful  corresponds  to  so  much 
of  the  idea  as  is  actualized  in  us,"  and  asks  "how  beauty, 
which  is  so  often  found  in  external  forms,  can  correspond 
to  an  ideal  condition  of  the  human  spirit  "  ;  and  as  J.  Mark 
Baldwin,  who,  in  his  "  Handbook  of  Psychology,  "  distin- 
guishes ''two  kinds  of  aesthetic  emotion:  that  which 
attaches  to  more  sensuous  experiences,  and  is  almost  exclu- 
sively yi?^;;^^/,  and  that  which  attaches  to  more  represen- 
tative experiences  as  having  meaning'''  Another  school  of 
the  same  general  class  of  writers,  approaching  the  same  gen. 
eral  result  from  the  idealistic  side,  recognizes,  the  "  natural 
history  conception  "  to  be  valid  as  an  empirical  one,  but 
passes  from  it  by  means  of  what  are  termed  "  judgments  of 
worth  "  to  the  view  that  there  is  an  ideal  principle  which 
is  embodying  itself  in  experience,  thus  giving  rise  to 
conceptions  of  the  beautiful  and  the  good.  This  latter 
school  is  represented  by  such  writers  as  T.  H.  Green, 
author  of  "  The  Prolegomena  to  Ethics  "  ;  Bernard  Bosan- 
quet,  whose  definition  of  beauty,  in  his  *'  History  of  iEs- 
thetic,"  is  "that  which  has  characteristic  or  individual 
expressiveness  for  sense-perception,  or  imagination,  subject 
to  the  conditions  of  general  or  abstract  expressiveness  in 
the  same  medium  " ;  and  as  the  American,  John  Dewey, 
who,  in  his  "  Psychology,"  says  that  "  a  purely  realistic,  as 
a  purely  idealistic,  art  is  impossible." 

In  addition  to  these,  without  reference  to  any  relation- 
ship to  their  general  philosophic  tendencies,  it  is  probably 
fair  to  include  among  those  who  recognize  the  dual 
nature  of  the  effects  of  beauty  such  writers  as  the  poets 


1 18  ART  IN  THEOR  V. 

Schiller  and  Goethe,  as  their  views  are  expressed,  by  the 
former  in  his  "  Briefe  iiber  die  aesthetische  Erziehung  des 
Menschen,"  and  by  the  latter  in  his  "  Wilhelm  Meister." 
Even  F.  von  Hartmann,  rightly  classed  with  Schopen- 
hauer (page  1 14),  in  his  "  Philosophie  des  Unbewussten," 
and  his  later  *' Aesthetik,"  distinguishes  what  he  terms 
shine  or  glow,  which,  according  to  him,  is  a  quality  in 
which  beauty  resides,  as  being  different  from  either  form 
or  the  idea,  inasmuch  as  it  is  something  which  in  nature 
cannot  be  separated  from  reality,  but  in  art  can  be  pro- 
duced by  combination.  More  unmistakably  belonging 
to  this  class  are  such  writers  as  the  Dutch  J.  van  Vloten, 
who,  in  his  *'  Nederlandsche  Aesthetik,"  assigns  equal 
importance  to  expressing  truth  and  to  embodying  propor- 
tions like  those  of  Zeising ;  as  the  French  Charles  Blanc, 
whose  '■'  Grammaire  des  Arts  du  Dessin  "  seems  not  only 
to  acknowledge,  but  to  emphasize  both  sides  of  the  ques- 
tion ;  and  as  the  Abb6  P.  Vallet,  who,  in  his  "'  L'ld^e  du 
Beau,  dans  la  Philosophie  de  Saint  Thomas  d'Aquin," 
seems  to  take  a  suggestion  from  von  Hartmann's  idea  of 
the  shine,  substituting  for  it  the  term  splendor,  and  to 
hold  equally  to  the  necessity  both  of  imitating  beauty 
which  for  him  has  objective  reality,  and  of  interpreting  it 
so  as  to  reveal  the  idea  that  it  embodies.  Finally,  we 
may  include  in  the  same  class  such  English  writers  as 
were  represented  during  the  first  part  of  the  seventeenth 
century  by  the  third  Lord  Shaftesbury,  author  of  "  The 
Moralists,  a  Philosophical  Rhapsody,"  usually  classed  as 
an  idealist,  but  who,  in  his  *'  Miscellaneous  Reflections," 
asserts  the  "  originality  "  and  **  independence  "  of  natural 
beauty  in  such  things  as  figure,  color,  motion,  and  sound  ; 
by  Francis  Hutcheson,  another  so-styled  idealist,  who,  in 
his  '*  Inquiry  into  the  Original  of  our  Ideas  of  Beauty  and 


REPRESENTATION  BY  NATURAL  APPEARANCES,     1 19 

Virtue,"  with  like  distinctions  between  "  original  "  and 
"  relative  "  beauty,  argues  often  from  distinctively  real- 
istic view-points ;  by  the  Scottish  philosophers,  notwith- 
standing their  extremely  subjective  treatments  of  the 
whole  subject,  Thomas  Reid,  who,  in  his  "  Essays  on  the 
Intellectual  Powers,"  declares  the  beauty  acknowledged 
to  be  in  natural  objects  to  be  derived  from  *'  some  rela- 
tion that  they  bear  to  mind,"  and  that  the  greatest  beauty 
lives  in  "  expression " ;  Dugald  Stewart,  who,  in  his 
"  Philosophical  Essays,"  develops  the  same  general  theory, 
though  his  discussion  often  leaves  one  in  doubt  whether 
he  is  not  arguing  from  a  purely  materialistic  view-point ; 
and  Sir  WiUiam  Hamilton,  whose  definition  of  the  beau- 
tiful, in  conformity  with  the  natural  realism  or  dualism  of 
his  general  philosophic  system  in  his  "  Lectures  on  Meta- 
physics," is  one  which  "  occupies  the  Imagination  and 
Understanding  in  a  free  and  full,  and  consequently  in  an 
agreeable  activity " ;  by  John  Ruskin  in  his  "  Modern 
Painters,"  and  other  works  (see  page  15);  by  St.  John 
Tyrwhitt,  who,  in  his  "  Natural  Theology  of  Natural 
Beauty,"  accepts  both  a  physical  explanation  of  the  origin 
of  beauty  and  the  theory  that  it  is  "  a  spiritual  supplement 
to  the  sense  of  sight  " ;  by  ex-President  James  McCosh 
of  Princeton,  who,  in  his  "  Typical  Forms  and  Special 
Ends  in  Creation,"  as  well  as  in  his  later  ''  Emotions," 
while  accepting  many  of  the  deductions  of  writers  like 
Hay  and  Darwin,  endeavors  to  "correlate"  them  to 
mental  phenomena;  by  E.  J.  Poynter,  who,  in  his  "Ten 
Lectures  on  Art,"  insists  throughout  on  both  idealism  and 
realism  ;  as  do  also  F.  T.  Palgrave  in  his  "  Essays  on  Art," 
especially  in  the  one  on  "  Poetry  and  Prose  in  Art,"  and 
J.  A.  Symonds  in  his  "  Essays,  Speculative  and  Sugges- 
tive," especially  in  the  one  on  "  Realism  and  Idealism." 


I20  ART  IN  THEORY. 

If  now  we  apply  to  these  theories  the  same  test  that 
we  have  been  applying  so  far  throughout  this  book, 
namely,  the  meaning  of  the  term  beauty  as  understood 
and  used  in  ordinary  intercourse,  we  shall  find  that  there 
is  some  truth  in  all  of  them,  and  that  each  theory  is 
fallacious  so  far  alone  as  it  excludes  from  consideration 
that  which  is  true  of  theories  seemingly  opposed  to  it. 

There  is  a  degree  of  truth,  for  instance,  in  the  first 
theory.  The  word  beautiful,  as  ordinarily  used,  implies 
a  recognition  of  a  phase  of  beauty  existing  in  mere  ap- 
pearance, aside  from  any  thought  or  feeling  expressed 
through  it.  Omitting  consideration  of  a  few  eccentric 
theories  with  reference  to  the  subject,  which  no  large 
number  of  thinkers  have  adopted,  and  which,  even  by 
their  authors,  are  applied  only  to  the  primary  uses  of  the 
word — such,  for  instance,  as  the  statements  by  Johann 
Joachim  Winckelmann  in  his  ''  Geschichte  der  Kunst  des 
Alterthums,"  by  Kant  in  his  ''  Kritik  der  Urtheilskraft," 
and  by  Henry  Fuseli  in  the  *'  Lectures  by  the  Royal 
Academicians,"  that  beauty  is  ascribable  to  shape  or  form 
rather  than  to  color  or  sound  ;  of  Henry  Home,  Lord 
Kames,  in  his  '*  Elements  of  Criticism,"  that  it  is  ascrib- 
able only  to  objects  of  sight;  and  of  Dugald  Stewart  in 
his  "  Philosophical  Essays,"  that  our  first  ideas  of  it  are 
derived  from  colors — it  may  be  said  that,  to  men  gen- 
erally, a  fabric  of  a  single  hue  hanging  in  a  shop-window, 
two  or  three  of  different  hues  thrown  accidentally  to- 
gether, and  certain  figures,  even  rooms,  on  account,  some- 
times of  their  colors,  sometimes  of  their  proportions, 
sometimes  of  both,  are  termed,  and  properly  termed, 
beautiful.  When  so  used,  the  word  does  not  refer  neces- 
sarily to  any  human  thought  or  feeling  that  men  recognize 
as  being  suggested  through  or  by  these  forms.     All  that 


REPRESENTATION  BY  NATURAL   APPEARANCES,     121 

is  meant  is,  that  certain  colors  and  spaces  have  been  so 
presented  as  to  fulfil  requirements  of  physical  laws  that 
make  them  attractive  or  agreeable  to  the  sense  of  sight. 
Women  are  not  wrong  in  principle,  only  in  their  applica- 
tion of  the  effect  to  a  lower  sense,  when  they  apply  the 
same  word  to  soups  and  pies  agreeable  to  taste. 

Again,  there  is  truth  in  the  second  of  the  theories. 
Ordinary  language  recognizes  a  phase  of  beauty  in  mere 
significance,  despite  the  form.  Let  one  come  upon  a 
woman  with  a  deformed  figure  and  homely  countenance, 
dressed  in  most  inharmonious  colors,  and  in  a  most  illy 
proportioned  room  ;  yet  if  she  be  engaged  in  the  utter- 
ance of  some  noble  sentiment,  or  in  the  performance  of 
some  sublime  act  of  charity  or  of  self-sacrifice,  the  expres- 
sion of  the  motive  in  her  face  and  frame,  together  with 
her  surroundings,  may  be  so  accordant  with  the  demands 
of  his  soul  as  to  transfigure  the  mere  forms,  and  prepare 
him  to  swear  before  a  court  of  justice  that  he  has  seen 
what  is  beautiful. 

At  the  same  time,  probably,  most  men  will  be  willing 
to  admit  that  in  the  case  neither  of  the  fabrics  nor  of  the 
woman  does  the  beauty  exhibited  manifest  all  the  ele- 
ments capable  of  rendering  it  complete.  They  recognize 
that  the  beauty  of  form  in  colors  or  outHnes  could  be 
enhanced  by  supplementing  it  with  more  beauty  appeal- 
ing to  the  intellect,  and  that  the  beauty  of  expression  in 
the  deformed  woman  could  receive  a  more  harmonious 
setting  if  accompanied  by  more  beauty  of  color  and  out- 
line. So  far  as  appearances  appeal  merely  to  one's 
aesthetic  nature,  it  is  preferable  to  see  a  beautiful  woman 
doing  a  beautiful  act,  to  seeing  one  not  beautiful  doing 
it.  It  does  not  seem  to  be  true,  therefore,  that  beauty 
can  be  referred  merely  to  form,  or  merely  to  significance, 


122  ART  IN  THEORY, 

or  merely  to  both  together.  To  cover  all  the  facts  indi- 
cated by,  at  least,  the  ordinary  use  of  the  term,  we  must 
acknowledge  that  all  these  theories  contain  some  truth ; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  that  beauty  is  complete  alone  in 
the  degree  in  which  beauty  of  form  and  of  significance  are 
combined.  Whether  or  not  the  ordinary  use  of  the  term 
is  a  justifiable  use  of  it,  we  must  leave  to  be  determined 
by  what  will  be  unfolded  in  subsequent  chapters. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

BEAUTY    AS    ABSOLUTE,     RELATIVE;     OBJECTIVE, 
SUBJECTIVE,    ETC. 

The  Term  Beauty  as  Used  by  the  Foremost  Authorities  Indicates  the  Same 
as  its  Ordinary  Use  Noticed  in  the  Last  Chapter — Mention  of  Writers 
who  Consider  Beauty  Relative — Of  those  who  Distinguish  Relative, 
Natural,  Derived,  or  Dependent  Beauty  from  that  which  is  Essential, 
Divine,  Typical,  Absolute,  Intrinsic,  Free,  etc. — Distinction  between 
Relative  and  Absolute  Beauty  the  most  Common — All  these  Distinc- 
tions Imply  an  Appeal  to  the  Senses  through  Forms  and  to  the  Mind 
through  Suggestions — Beauty  as  Objective  and  Subjective — Mention 
of  Writers  Considering  it  Objective  :  these  Claim  it  to  be  Recognized 
through  its  Subjective  Effects — Mention  of  Writers  Considering  it 
Subjective :  these  do  not  Deny  its  Origin  in  Forms  Considered  by 
them  Objective — They,  too,  Mean  that  Beauty  must  be  Judged  by  its 
Effects  —  Mention  of  Other  Writers  Holding  Unequivocably  that 
Beauty  is  both  Objective  and  Subjective. 

TTHAT  the  statement  made  in  the  last  paragraph  of 
Chapter  X.,  namely,  that  beauty  is  complete  alone 
in  the  degree  in  which  it  is  manifested  both  in  form  and  in 
significance,  conforms  to  general  opinion,  including  that 
also  of  the  foremost  authorities,  though  these  often  ap- 
parently acknowledge  it  unconsciously  to  themselves,  can 
be  confirmed  by  noticing  certain  terms  that  almost  all 
writers  upon  beauty  have  concurred  in  using  in  order  to 
define  it  or  to  distinguish  certain  phases  of  it. 

It  has  been  urged,  for  instance,  by  some,  and  these  of 
every  nation,  that  all  beauty  of  whatever  kind  is  relative 
or  a  matter  of  relations.     It  was  so  with  Aristotle  ;  and 

123 


124  ART  IN  THEORY. 

his  view  has  been  sustained  in  modern  times,  in  Switzer- 
land, by  J.  P.  de  Crousaz,  in  his  **  Traits  du  Beau  " ;  in 
France,  by  P^re  Buffier,  in  his  "  Traits  des  V^rites  Pre- 
mieres," as  well  as  by  Denys  Diderot,  in  his  "  Beaut6  "  in 
the  "  Encyclop^die  "  ;  in  Holland,  by  Hieronymus  van 
Alphen,  in  his  '*  Theorie  van  Schoone  Kunsten  en  Weten- 
schappen  " ;  in  Germany,  by  J.  Jungmann,  in  his  "  Aes- 
thetik "  ;  and  in  England,  as  a  necessary  supplement 
underlying  their  theory  of  ''association,"  by  Alison, 
Jeffrey,  and  Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  as  well  as  by  James 
Sully,  whose  whole  argument  in  the  aesthetic  portion  of 
his  "  Sensation  and  Intuition  "  is  based  upon  the  assump- 
tion that  the  relative  validity  of  aesthetic  principles  is  all 
that  the  science  needs. 

Generally,  however,  in  connection  with  the  term  rela- 
tive, another  term  has  been  used,  indicative  of  the  exist- 
ence of  an  entirely  contrasting  phase  of  beauty.  Francis 
Hutcheson,  for  instance,  in  his  "  Inquiry  into  the  Original 
of  our  Ideas  of  Beauty  and  Virtue,"  distinguishes  it  from 
absolute  beauty,  meaning  by  this  the  beauty  of  an  object 
without  relation  to  anything  beyond  it  from  which  it  may 
be  imitated.  He  thinks  that  art,  besides  reproducing 
absolute  beauty,  may  occasion  relative  beauty  by  using  that 
which  has  not  absolute  beauty.  P^re  Andre,  in  his  **  Essai 
sur  le  Beau,"  distinguishes  the  7iatural  beauty  of  the  ex- 
ternal world  from  essential  or  divine  beauty,  by  which  he 
evidently  means  the  typical  beauty.  Lord  Kames,  in  his 
''  Elements  of  Criticism,"  distinguishes  relative  from  in- 
trinsic beauty,  meaning  by  the  latter  a  quality  in  the 
form  as  contrasted  with  that  which  is  recognized  (by 
thought,  of  course)  to  be  its  end  or  purpose.  Dugald 
Stewart,  in  his  "  Philosophical  Essays,"  distinguishes  rela- 
tive from  absolute  or  intrinsic  beauty,  meaning  by  the 


BEAUTY  AS  ABSOLUTE,    RELATIVE.  12$ 

latter  the  same  as  Lord  Karnes.  Lord  Shaftesbury,  in 
his  "  Miscellaneous  Reflections,"  and  also  Thomas  Reid, 
in  his  "  Essays  on  the  Intellectual  Powers,"  make  distinc- 
tions between  what  they  both  term  derived  and  original 
beauty  ;  but  with  the  former  the  original  beauty  is  that 
which  is  in  nature,  as  distinguished  from  art,  and  with 
the  latter  it  is  that  which  is  in  mind  as  distinguished  from 
nature  ;  and  Sir  William  Hamilton  speaks  of  dependent  or 
relative  beauty  as  contrasted  with  that  which  is  free  or 
absolute,  in  the  sense  of  being  (of  course,  to  the  concep- 
tion of  the  mind)  complete. 

The  most  common  and  authoritative  distinction,  how- 
ever, is  that  between  relative  beauty  which  pertains  to 
actual  appearances,  and  absolute  beauty  which  pertains  to 
the  typical  or  ideal  form.  This  is  a  distinction  essential, 
as  is  evident,  not  only  to  the  fundamental  theory  of  the 
German  philosophy  of  the  absolute,  as  mentioned  on 
page  115,  but  to  any  phase  of  Platonism,  as  mentioned 
on  pages  114,  115. 

Notice  now  the  double  nature  of  the  effect — the  effects, 
that  is  both  of  form  and  also  of  what  is  expressed  through 
the  form — to  which  the  employment  of  any  of  these  terms 
must  necessarily  be  attributable.  The  word  relative,  even 
when  used  alone,  and  much  more  when  used  in  connection 
with  an  opposite  term,  implies,  if  it  does  not  express,  a 
contrast, — as  applied  to  beauty,  a  contrast  resulting  from 
a  recognition  of  influences  appealing  both  to  the  senses 
through  forms  and  also  to  the  mind  through  suggested 
thought.  The  use  of  the  word  must  result  from  a  recog- 
nition of  forms,  because,  otherwise,  no  relativity  could  be 
perceptible ;  and  it  must  result  from  a  recognition  of 
suggested  thought  also,  because  otherwise  none  could  be 
conceivable.     The  conception  of  relativity  always  neces- 


126  ART  IN  THEORY, 

sitates  a  mental  comparison  with  something  like  the  ahso- 
hite^  the  intrinsic^  the  inherent,  or  the  original.  This 
latter,  therefore,  must  be  suggested  to  the  mind  and  held 
there  as  an  idea,  ideal,  type,  or  standard,  before  it  is  pos- 
sible to  conceive  that,  as  contrasted  with  it,  any  other 
form,  actually  presented  for  consideration,  is  relative. 

Equally  well,  the  recognition  of  the  fact  that  beauty  is 
complete  in  the  degree  alone  in  which  it  is  manifested 
both  in  form  and  in  significance,  is  shown  by  the  applica- 
tion to  it  of  the  terms  objective  and  subjective.  Each  of 
these  terms  is  assigned  by  different  writers  to  different 
conditions.  When  we  search  for  the  reasons  of  this  we 
find  indications  of  its  being  traceable  to  a  subtle  and  un- 
conscious desire  to  account  in  a  satisfactory  way  for  the 
sources  of  both  effects  which  we  are  now  considering. 
For  instance,  we  might  naturally  suppose  that  those  who 
attribute  beauty  to  the  conditions  of  form  as  form,  inas- 
much as  form  is  objective  to  the  mind  influenced  by  it, 
would  assert  that  beauty  too  is  objective.  But  they  do 
the  contrary.  As  a  rule,  these  are  the  very  writers  who 
argue  strenuously  that  it  is  subjective,  meaning  by  this 
that  it  is  apprehended  through  the  effects  that  it  has  upon 
the  sensibilities  of  the  person  subjected  to  its  influence. 
For  an  analogous  reason,  we  might  naturally  suppose  that 
those  who  attribute  beauty  to  the  idea,  or  ideal,  or  typi- 
cal form,  would  conceive  of  this  latter  as  existing  in  the 
mind,  and,  therefore,  would  conceive  of  beauty  itself  as 
something  also  in  the  mind,  and,  therefore,  as  subjective. 
But  the  facts  here  too  are  just  the  contrary.  Plato  him- 
self, and  the  Platonists  generally,  are  the  very  ones  who 
argue  that  it  is  objective,  meaning  by  this  that  it  is  a 
divine  or  spiritual  essence  actually  existing  outside  of  us, 
inc^smuch  as  it  is  behind  the  perceptible  forms  of  nature, 


BEAUTY  AS  ABSOLUTE,  RELATIVE.  12/ 

• 
To  extend  these  statements  we  find,  on  the  one  hand, 
such  advocates  of  objectivity  as  Richard  Price,  who,  in 
his  ''  Review  of  the  Principal  Questions  of  Morals,"  be- 
gins by  asserting  that  beauty  is  an  attribute  so  **  inherent 
in  objects  that  it  would  exist  in  them  whether  any  mind 
perceived  it  or  not  ** ;  and  as  the  Abb^  P.  Vallet,  whose 
very  first  endeavor,  as  stated  by  himself  in  his  "  L'ld^e 
du  Beau  dans  la  Phil,  de  St.  Thomas  d'Aquin,"  is  to  prove 
the  objectivity  of  beauty, — we  find  such  writers  ending  by 
analyzing  its  effects  into  those  of  unity  and  variety  and 
the  like, — effects  which,  whether  appealing  to  the  senses  or 
to  the  mind,  can  be  recognized  only  subjectively.  A  simi- 
lar fact  is  true  of  almost  every  other  writer  whom  we  have 
quoted  on  pages  111-113  as  either  explicitly  or  implicitly 
attributing  beauty  to  form  as  form.  There  are  few  of 
these  of  whom  one  might  not  say,  as  William  Knight  in 
his  *'  Philosophy  of  the  Beautiful "  says  of  the  first  of 
their  series:  "Aristotle's  analysis  of  the  philosophy  of 
the  beautiful  seems,  however,  to  conduct  us  in  the  end  to 
a  doctrine  not  very  far  removed  from  that  of  Plato.  So 
far  as  he  reaches  a  principle  at  all,  it  is  that  of  order  and 
symmetry."  It  is  always  qualities  in  principle  like  these 
— unity  and  variety,  one  in  the  manifold,  harmony,  pro- 
portion, symmetry,  etc. — that  are  emphasized  in  such 
systems  as  on  pages  111-113  are  ascribed  to  writers  like 
Vitruvius,  Batteux,  Em^ric-David,  Baumgarten,  Sulzer, 
De  Superville,  Flock,  Burke,  Bellars,  Hay,  Day,  Long, 
Zeising,  and  Helmholtz.  By  others  mentioned  with 
them,  as  by  Voltaire,  Diderot,  Gilpin,  and  Sully,  emphatic 
denials  are  given  of  any  absolute  standards  of  taste.  But 
such  denials  are  virtual  admissions  that  beauty  is  a  result 
of  effects  as  they  appeal  subjectively  not  only  to  the  eye  or 
ear,  but  to  personal  feeling,  thought,  or  judgment.     A 


128  ART  IN  THEOR  V. 

similar  assertion  could  be  made,  too,  of  the  systems,  in- 
cluding almost  all  those  ascribing  beauty  to  form  as  form, 
which  attribute  it  to  certain  sensations,  mainly  of  pleas- 
ure, excited  in  those  by  whom  it  is  perceived.  In  fact, 
all  that  the  advocates  of  inhererit  beauty  or  of  the  conse- 
quent theory  of  the  hnitative  nature  of  art  seem  to 
mean  is  that  certain  objective  conditions  inevitably  and 
necessarily  produce  in  the  senses  of  hearing  or  sight,  or  in 
the  mind  as  influenced  through  these,  certain  subjective 
effects.  Their  opponents  do  not  always  admit  the  inevi- 
table or  necessary  sequence  of  these  effects,  nor  that  they 
are  produced  upon  the  mind  on  account  of  only  their 
previous  effects  upon  the  senses.  But  these  are  differ- 
ences merely  in  methods  of  explaining  the  origin  of 
effects  exerted  by  the  forms  and  by  their  significance, 
differences  that  involve  no  denial  but  rather  an  admis- 
sion that  there  is  something  in  beauty  traceable  to  both 
sources,  the  existence  of  which  admission  is  all  that  we 
are  now  trying  to  show. 

The  condition  of  thought  just  indicated,  is  paralleled  in 
the  case  of  those  too  who  make  much  of  the  subjectivity 
of  beauty.  Who  of  these  deny  the  objectivity  of  the  phe- 
nomena occasioning  it  ?  Lord  Kames,  for  instance,  in  his 
''  Elements  of  Criticism,"  declares  that "  an  object  is  said  to 
be  beautiful  for  no  other  reason  than  that  it  appears  so  to 
a  spectator."  Abraham  Tucker,  in  his  *'  Light  of  Nature 
Pursued,"  denies  that  there  is  any  absolute  or  essential 
beauty  in  objects  existing  independent  of  the  subject,  and 
Thomas  Reid,  in  his  **  Essays  on  the  Intellectual  Powers," 
seems  to  agree  in  this  regard  entirely  with  Schopenhauer, 
who  affirms  that  it  is  not  through  the  senses  of  under- 
standing or  reason  but  by  direct  intuition  that  beauty  is 
recognized.     Not    essentially    differing   in    tendency.  Sir 


BEAUTY  AS  ABSOLUTE,   RELATIVE.  1 29 

William  Hamilton  defines  a  beautiful  object  as  one  whose 
form  *'  occupies  the  Imagination  and  Understanding  in  a 
free  and  full  and  consequently  in  an  agreeable  activity.*' 
David  Hume,  in  his  essay,  '*  Of  the  Standard  of  Taste,"  as 
also  Charles  Blanc,  in  his  "  Grammaire  des  Arts  du  Dessin," 
claims  that  beauty  exists  only  "  in  the  mind  of  man  " ;  and 
Eugene  V^ron,  in  his  *'  L'Esth^tique,"  that  the  beautiful 
in  art  is  subjective  because  it  is  an  (objective)  expres- 
sion of  the  artist's  personality.  Von  Hartmann,  in  his 
**  Aesthetik,"  takes  clearer  ground,  arguing  that  a  work  of 
art  while  objectively  real  is  beautiful  only  in  its  subjective 
effect ;  and  Julius  Bergmann,  in  his  "  Ueber  das  Schone," 
claims  that  the  subjectivity  of  beauty  is  capable  of  scien- 
tific demonstration.  The  ground  taken  by  these  writers, 
especially  by  those  who  hold  the  perception  of  beauty  to 
be  a  direct  intuition,  is  certainly  very  different  from  that 
of  most  of  the  writers  mentioned  in  the  last  paragraph, 
who  believe  it  to  be  an  effect  of  either  judgment  or  feel- 
ing excited  by  symmetry,  proportion,  or  other  such  quali- 
ties as  are  produced  first  upon  the  senses  ;  but  the  ground 
thus  taken  does  not  deny  the  objectivity  of  the  condi- 
tions through  the  instrumentality  of  which  the  effects 
upon  mind  are  set  in  operation  except  in  the  sense  in 
which  extreme  idealism  excludes  all  objectivity.  Kant, 
for  instance,  in  his  "  Kritik  der  Urtheilskraft,"  makes  all 
conceptions  of  beauty,  as  well  as  of  all  other  qualities 
supposed  to  be  perceived  subjective ;  but  he  does  not 
deny  that  they  arise  in  forms  that  men  consider  to  be 
objective. 

"  The  principle,"  he  says,  as  translated  by  J.  H.  Bernard, 
P.  I,  Div.  I,  S.  22,  page  95,  "  which  concerns  the  agreement 
of  different  judging  persons,  although  only  subjective,  is 
yet  assumed  as  subjectively  universal  (an  idea  necessary 


I30  ART  IN  THEORY. 

for  every  one),  and  thus  can  claim  universal  assent  (as  if 
it  were  objective)  provided  we  are  sure  that  we  have  cor- 
rectly subsumed  (the  particulars)  under  it." 

The  same  view  may  be  said  to  be  taken  by  Schelling 
and  Hegel  and  their  lesser  followers.  Practically  these 
writers,  in  applying  the  term,  mean  little  more  than  that 
beauty  must  be  judged  in  all  cases  by  its  effects.  They 
would  be  willing  to  admit  that  these  come  partly  from 
that  which  the  mind  conceives  of  as  outside  itself,  and 
partly  from  that  which  it  conceives  of  as  within  itself. 
Often,  too,  they  mean  that  the  man  perceiving  forms 
must  decide  by  a  purely  subjective  judgment  the  degree 
in  which  they  conform  to  good  taste.  If,  moreover, 
it  can  be  shown  that  with  men  universally  this  subjective 
judgment,  when  acting  normally,  has  a  tendency  to  at- 
tribute beauty  to  similar  combinations  of  forms  or  ideas, 
then  it  can  be  argued  logically  that,  practically  considered, 
the  beauty  resulting  from  their  combination  is  objective 
and  real.  "  Though  subjective,  as  Kant  says,"  to  quote 
from  Bernard  Bosanquet  in  his  "  History  of  ^Esthetic," 
"it  is  also  objective,  as  he  meant."  By  many  of  these 
writers,  in  fact,  this  conclusion  is  distinctly  admitted. 

Others,  who  by  no  means  overlook  the  expressional 
side  of  the  subject — such  writers,  for  instance,  as  Weisse, 
in  the  "  System  der  Aesthetik  als  Wissenschaft  von  der 
Idee  des  Schonen,"  Rosmini-Serbati,  in  his  "  Letteratura 
e  Arti  Belle,"  John  G.  MacVicar,  in  his  essay  "  On  the 
Beautiful,  the  Picturesque,  and  the  Sublime,"  John  Ruskin, 
in  his  "  Modern  Painters,'*  Joseph  Jungmann,  in  his  "Aes- 
thetik," and  Prof.  J.  S.  Kedney,  in  his  work  on  "  The 
Beautiful  and  the  Sublime,"  hold  to  the  opinion  that 
beauty,  as  well  as  being  subjective,  is  also,  and  this  too  in 
the  most  distinctive  sense,  objective. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BEAUTY  THE  RESULT  OF  HARMONY  OF  EFFECTS,  PHYSICAL 
AND  MENTAL. 

Results  of  our  Review  of  Different  Theories — The  Term  Effects  and  its 
Suggestions — Illustrations  of  Beauty  as  Attributable  to  Effects  upon  the 
Senses  and  the  Mind  and  Both — As  Incomplete  because  Attributable  to 
Effects  upon  the  Senses  and  not  the  Mind,  or  upon  the  Mind  and  not 
the  Senses — Complexity  of  Effects  thus  Suggested  as  Essential  to 
Beauty — Connection  between  this  and  our  Present  Line  of  Thought — 
Complexity  of  Effects  Essential  to  the  Beauty  of  Single  Sounds,  Lines, 
and  Colors — Much  more  in  Combinations  of  these  in  Art-Products — 
Besides  Complexity,  Variety,  Unity,  and  the  Phase  of  the  Latter 
Termed  Harmony  of  Effects  Necessary  to  Beauty — Harmony  of  Tone 
Explained — Of  Color — The  Relations  of  Both  to  Vibratory  Action 
upon  the  Acoustic  or  Optic  Nerves — Harmony  of  Effects  as  Produced 
in  Rhythm  and  Proportion — Some  Sense-Effects  Entering  into  Harmony 
are  Produced  without  Conscious  Action  of  the  Mind,  but  Some  are 
not — Thought  and  Emotion  as  Determined  according  to  Physiological 
Psychology,  by  Vibratory  Action  upon  Nerves  of  Hearing,  Sight,  and 
the  Whole  Brain — But  Thought  and  Emotion,  Spontaneous  or  not  Con- 
veyed through  the  Senses,  may  also  Determine  Hearing  and  Sight — 
Effects  Causing  Beauty  in  this  Case  are  Produced  in  the  Mind — Facts 
with  Reference  to  Vibratory  Action  in  Connection  with  all  Conscious 
Sensation  should  not  be  Ignored,  but  Need  not  be  Solved  in  an  ^Esthetic 
System — Sufficient  Data  for  this  Obtained  by  Accepting  Effects  in  their 
Ascertainable  Conditions. 

TN  this  brief  review  of  opinions  held  and  of  distinctions 

made  with  reference  to  beauty,  which  in  all  cases,  as 

must  not  be  forgotten,  involves  the  existence  of  a  form 

appealing  to  the  mind  either  through  hearing  or  sight,  we 

131 


132  ART  IN  THEORY, 

have  found  one  set  of  writers  attributing  that  which  is 
essential  in  this  quality  to  effects  produced  upon  the 
physical  senses ;  another  set  attributing  it  to  effects  pro- 
duced upon  the  mind  ;  and  still  a  third  set  attributing  it 
in  part  to  the  one  source  and  in  part  to  the  other. 

This  word  effects,  as  thus  used,  explicitly  or  implicitly, 
by  the  advocates  of  each  theory,  cannot  fail  to  awaken  a 
suggestion  of  a  possibility  of  finding  a  common  principle 
exemplified  in  the  theories  of  all.  But  before  we  follow 
out  this  suggestion,  before  we  ask  exactly  what  it  is  that 
effects,  whether  produced  upon  the  senses  or  the  mind, 
have  in  common,  let  us  first  confirm,  by  an  illustration  or 
two,  the  universality  with  which  the  ordinary  use  of  terms 
shows  that  the  conception  of  beauty  involves  that  of 
effects  produced  upon  both. 

First  of  all,  let  us  recall  a  woman,  in  prominent  position, 
of  great  beauty  of  form  and  excellence  of  character,  a 
woman  with  the  reputation,  say,  of  Queen  Louise  of 
Prussia,  the  mother  of  the  first  Emperor  William.  Here 
was  one  whose  form  and  face  were  of  such  a  nature  that, 
owing  solely  to  their  effects  upon  the  organs  of  sight,  they 
would  cause  almost  any  observer  of  ordinary  taste,  how- 
ever ignorant  of  whom  or  of  what  she  was,  to  declare  her 
to  be  beautiful.  But,  behind  and  above  the  attractions  of 
her  mere  appearance,  she  had  such  a  character,  such  men- 
tal and  sympathetic  traits,  that  none  of  her  own  family, 
intimately  acquainted  with  these,  would  have  been  willing 
to  admit  that  she  was  beautiful  to  others  in  as  deep  and 
spiritual  a  sense  as  to  themselves.  But  to  what  would 
their  unwillingness  to  admit  this  be  owing,  except  to  a 
subtle  belief  in  a  phase  of  beauty  dependent  upon  effects 
exerted  not  upon  physical  organs  only,  but  upon  mind 
and  soul?     At  the  same  time,  had  one  of  their  number 


BEAUTY  THE  RESULT  OF  HARMONY  OF  EFFECTS.    1 33 

been  blind,  all  the  others  would  have  regretted  the  impos- 
sibility of  this  one's  recognizing  her  beauty  as  they  did. 
But  to  what  would  this  feeHng  be  owing,  except  to  an 
inward  conviction  that  beauty  is  a  result  of  effects  coming 
from  form  as  well  as  from  character  ;  and,  not  only  this, 
but  also  from  both  of  them  when  combined.  "  To  know- 
just  how  beautiful  she  is,"  they  would  all  have  felt  like  say- 
ing, "  you  should  know  not  only  how  her  appearance  fits 
the  requirements  of  the  senses,  but  also  how  perfectly  her 
appearance  fits  her  character,  and  her  character  and  appear- 
ance together  fit  every  requirement  of  both  the  senses  and 
the  soul.'* 

Or  take  another  example.  There  are  certain  combina- 
tions of  colors  and  sounds,  say  a  flag  like  that  of  Italy, 
or  a  tune  like  the  ^'  Austrian  National  Hymn,"  the  effects 
of  which,  in  every  land,  without  something  to  interfere 
with  the  normal  action  of  the  eye  or  ear,  are  recognized 
to  be  beautiful.  Yet  it  is  possible  that,  owing  to  certain 
associations  of  ideas,  or  to  certain  suggestions  excited  by 
their  effects  upon  the  mind,  the  indisputable  beauty  both 
of  the  flag  and  of  the  tune  may  fail  to  appeal  to  some. 
Did  the  Italian  flag  seem  beautiful  at  the  time  of  the 
unification  of  Italy  to  the  adherents  of  the  Pope  ?  or  the 
Austrian  hymn  seem  so  to  the  Italians  when  Austria  was 
their  oppressor?  On  the  contrary,  for  exactly  opposite 
reasons,  the  sound  of  a  Scotch  bagpipe  or  the  sight  of  a 
Scotch  plaid,  neither  of  which  fulfils  aesthetic  laws  in  its 
effects  upon  the  physical  organs  of  perception,  excite  in 
the  Scottish  head  and  heart  that  which,  with  his  hand  on 
the  Bible  and  fear  of  eternal  punishment  in  store  for 
perjury,  the  Scotchman  would  be  willing  to  declare  an 
effect  of  beauty.  Yet  even  he  might  be  willing  to  admit, 
too,  that  certain  other  things  could  be  more  beautiful, — ■ 


134  ART  IN  THEORY. 

an  admission  which,  logically  carried  out,  would  lead  to 
the  acknowledgment  that  complete  or  ideal  beauty  is 
attained  only  by  effects,  if  there  be  any,  recognized  to  be 
beautiful  not  only  by  the  senses  irrespective  of  the  quality 
of  their  appeal  to  the  mind,  and  by  the  mind  irrespective 
of  the  quality  of  their  appeal  to  the  senses,  but  also  by 
both  the  senses  and  the  mind  ;  in  other  words,  when  the 
effects  upon  the  senses  seem  to  fit  those  upon  the  mind 
in  such  ways  that  both  together  seem  to  fit  the  whole 
duplex  nature  of  the  man  to  whom  they  are  addressed. 

It  has  to  be  acknowledged  that  these  illustrations  do 
little  more  than  reiterate  what  has  been  indicated  before ; 
and,  even  at  that,  merely  touch  the  surface  of  the  subject. 
Nevertheless,  they  contain  suggestions  that  are  important 
just  here,  and,  aided  by  which,  we  shall  presently  go 
deeper.  Notice,  first  of  all,  the  decided  suggestion  that 
complexity  of  effects  is  characteristic  of  beauty.  It  is 
attributed,  in  each  instance,  so  far  as  it  is  complete  and 
ideal,  not  to  a  single  effect,  as  to  one  upon  the  senses,  or 
to  one  upon  the  mind,  but,  necessarily,  to  more  than 
one,  often  to  many  of  them,  conjointly  exerting  both  a 
physical  and  a  psychical  influence.  In  view  of  this  fact, 
we  are  naturally  prompted  to  ask  whether  it  may  not  be 
found  that  this  complexity  of  effects,  which,  so  far,  has 
been  treated  as  merely  incidental  to  beauty,  is  essential 
to  it. 

That  we  should  ask  the  question  is  not  strange.  It 
has  been  asked  many  times  before,  as  well  as  answered  in 
the  afifirmative  (see  page  12).  But  neither  the  question 
nor  its  answer  is  that  which  concerns  us  here,  so  much 
as  the  bearing  of  the  answer,  when  we  have  found  it,  upon 
our  present  line  of  thought.  We  wish  to  show  that,  if 
beauty  be  complex,  there  are  reasons  connected  with  its 


BEAUTY  THE  RESULT  OF  HARMONY  OF  EFFECTS.    1 35 

very  existence  rendering  it  incapable  of  being  complete 
and  ideal,  except  in  the  degree  in  which  it  realizes  the 
conditions  that  have  just  been  claimed  for  it. 

Let  us  begin  by  applying  the  question  of  the  complexity 
of  beauty  to  effects  that  are  experienced  solely  in  the 
organs  of  hearing  and  sight,  and  to  these  effects  as  they 
exist  in  their  rudiments,  i.  e.,  in  elementary  sounds,  lines, 
or  colors.  To  take  up  the  first  of  these.  When  is  a  sound 
beautiful?  Few  would  think  of  answering  this  except  by 
saying,  when  it  is  a  blending  together,  in  accordance  with 
the  laws  of  harmony,  of  several  sounds,  as  in  melodies  or 
chords,  or  series  of  these, — in  other  words,  when  the  sound 
is  not  simple  but  complex.  But  let  us  be  accurate  in  this 
matter.  Is  it  not  true  that  a  single  sound,  like  the  solitary, 
unvaried  note  of  a  bird  or  of  a  prima  donna,  is  sometimes 
beautiful  ?  Certainly  it  is.  But  when  is  it  beautiful  ?  Of 
course,  when  it  is  musical.  But  when  is  it  musical  ?  As 
all  physicists  know,  in  the  degree  in  which  it  is  complex  ; 
and  complex  under  such  conditions  that  all  its  component 
effects  work  together  in  ways  causing  them  to  fulfil  the 
same  laws  of  harmony  that  are  fulfilled  in  chords  or  series 
of  them.  What  is  meant  in  saying  this  will  be  explained 
on  page  138.  At  present  the  fact  needs  only  to  be 
stated. 

A  similar  fact  is  true  with  reference  to  lines.  When  is 
a  line  beautiful  ?  Who,  if  asked  this,  would  not  answer, 
when  it  outlines  a  figure?  And  when  does  it  outline  a 
figure  ? — When  it  is  a  combination  of  many  lines  of  dif- 
ferent directions ;  and,  therefore,  when  its  effects  are 
complex.  But  here  again  it  may  be  asked,  is  a  single  line 
never  beautiful?  And  again  we  may  answer,  ''  certainly." 
But,  if  so,  the  line  is  never  perfectly  straight ;  it  is  never 
a  line  having  the  simple  effect  of  only  one  direction.    The 


136  ART  IN  THEORY, 

line  of  beauty  is  a  curve  ;  in  other  words,  it  has  a  complex 
effect.  Nor  is  it  really  beautiful  even  then,  except  when 
its  different  sections  are  conditioned  and  related  so  as 
to  produce  effects  which,  for  reasons  that  cannot  be 
given  here,  are  recognized  to  be  harmonious.  The  same 
is  true  of  colors  also.  It  is  with  the  harmony  or  con- 
trast occasioned  by  the  presence  of  many  of  these  used 
together  that  we  ordinarily  associate  the  idea  of  beauty. 
But  yet  a  single  color  may  be  beautiful.  At  the  same 
time,  when  this  is  so,  it  is  owing  either  to  the  con- 
trast between  it  and  every  color  surrounding  it,  or  else  to 
harmonious  effects  of  light  and  shade,  as  they  apparently 
play  upon  the  surfaces  of  a  hue,  when  subtly  occasion- 
ing those  exact  subdivisions  of  the  elements  of  light,  and 
of  its  absence,  which  determine  what  the  hue  is. 

If  sounds,  lines,  and  colors,  even  when  considered  in 
their  elements,  owe  their  beauty  to  a  complexity  in  which 
different  effects  are  blended  harmoniously,  this  must  be 
still  more  true  of  these  elements  when  combined  in  what 
all  recognize  to  be  the  extremely  complex  products  of 
nature  and  of  art. 

In  what  has  just  been  said,  it  has  been  necessary  to 
anticipate  that  which  has  yet  to  be  explained,  by  using 
several  times  the  term  harmonious.  Complexity  alone  could 
not  produce  effects  of  beauty ;  it  could  produce  not  even 
effects  of  form.  Complexity  alone  produces  merely  effects 
of  variety  ;  and  variety  alone  produces  merely  effects  of 
many  separate  forms.  Not  until,  in  spite  of  variety, 
unity  is  apparent,  can  either  the  senses  or  the  mind 
attribute  all  the  effects  to  a  single  source  or  agency.  No 
less  important,  therefore,  than  complexity,  and  its  neces- 
sary attendant,  variety,  is  unity  as  a  condition  underlying 
beauty.     But  what  phase  of  unity?     There  is  one  phase 


BEAUTY   THE  RESULT  OF  HARMONY  OF  EFFECTS.  1 37 

of  it  necessary  to  scientific  grouping.  In  spite  of  variety 
in  size,  shape,  or  color,  there  is  a  unity  of  apparent  effects 
traceable,  for  instance,  to  a  dog,  and  this  causes  us  to 
assign  every  member  of  his  family  to  the  same  general 
class.  Another  phase  is  necessary  to  philosophic  compre- 
hension. In  spite  of  variety  in  objects  of  worship,  creeds, 
or  codes  of  morals,  there  is  a  unity  of  apparent  effects 
traceable  to  religion  or  superstition,  and  this  causes  us  to 
ascribe  every  development  of  it  in  every  nation  to  the 
same  general  cause.  So,  too,  there  is  a  phase  of  unity 
which  is  necessary  to  aesthetic  appreciation.  In  spite  of 
variety  in  sounds  or  sights,  there  is  a  unity  of  effects 
traceable  to  a  symphony,  a  poem,  or  a  picture,  which 
causes  us  to  assign  every  particular  effect  of  it  to  the  same 
general  form.  The  phase  of  unity  appealing  to  scientific 
apprehension  is  usually  the  basis  of  conscious  or  uncon- 
scious classification  as  it  is  termed  ;  that  appealing  to 
philosophic  comprehension  is  usually  the  basis  of  what,  if 
distinguished  at  all  from  classification,  is  termed  systemi- 
zation  ;  and  that  appealing  to  aesthetic  appreciation  can 
be  defined  by  no  better  term,  perhaps,  than  harmony,  as 
the  word  is  used  not  in  a  technical  but  in  a  general  sense. 
As  we  shall  find  presently,  it  is  the  phase  of  unity  that  we 
have  in  harmony,  which,  as  manifested  in  connection  with 
a  variety  of  complex  effects,  produces  the  result  that  is 
termed  beauty. 

In  order  to  perceive  the  truth  of  this  statement,  we 
must  begin  by  ascertaining  exactly  what  harmony  is,  and 
this  not  in  its  general  but  in  its  technical  sense.  An  an- 
swer to  the  question  can  be  found  in  no  better  way  than 
by  recalling  the  discoveries  of  the  scientists  as  a  result  of 
analyzing  harmony  as  it  appears  in  music,  the  art  to  the 
effects  of  which  the  term  was  first  applied   technically. 


138  ART  IN  THEORY, 

In  this  art,  through  the  use,  among  other  methods,  of 
resonators,  so  constructed  as  to  enable  one  to  detect  the 
presence  in  a  tone  of  any  particular  pitch,  it  has  been 
found  that  notes  which  are  harmonious  are  such  as  con- 
tain the  same  elements  of  pitch,  or — what  is  the  same 
thing — are  notes  in  which  effects  of  like  pitch  are  re- 
peated. For  instance,  when  a  string  like  that  of  a  bass 
viol  is  struck,  its  note,  if  musical,  is  not  single  or  simple  : 
it  is  compound.  Suppose  that  it  produces  the  tone  of  the 
bass  C — representing  a  sound-wave  caused  by  the  whole 
length  of  the  string.  This  C  is  the  main,  or,  as  it  is 
termed,  the /r^;;^^  tone  that  we  hear.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  this  same  string  usually  divides  at  the  middle,  pro- 
ducing what  is  called  a  partial  tone  of  the  C  above  the 
bass,  representing  a  sound-wave  caused  by  one  half  the 
string's  length.  It  often  produces,  too, partial  ton^s  of  the 
G  above  this,  of  the  C  above  this,  and  of  the  E  above  the 
last  C  representing  sound-waves  caused,  respectively,  by 
one  third,  one  fourth,  and  one  fifth  of  the  string's  length. 
These  are  not  all  the  possible  partial  tones ;  nor  are  all  the 
partials,  in  every  instrument,  invariably  compounded  with 
every  prime  tone  :  but  only  the  pitch  of  these  and,  at  times, 
of  partials  caused  by  waves  of  one  sixth  and  one  seventh 
of  the  string's  length,  with  these  partial's  halves,  duplicates, 
quadruplicates,  etc.,  can  produce  harmony,  the  ear  being 
apparently  unable  to  detect  like  effects  with  more  com- 
plicated   subdivisions.      In    other   words,    the    C,   G,   C, 


^^s:?c 


gm 


11^^ 


and    E    in    this    upper   staff    are    in    harmony    with    the 
lower  C,  because  made  up  of  effects  that  already  enter 


BEAUTY  THE  RESULT  OF  HARMONY  OF  EFFECTS.    1 39 

into  its  composition.  The  chord  as  a  whole,  therefore,  or 
any  analogous  development  of  it,  is  a  result  of  putting 
like  effects  with  like. 

The  term  harmony,  though  applied  primarily  to  tones, 
is  applied  also  to  colors  ;  and  here  it  results  from  the  same 
process,  from  the  putting  together  of  things  that,  in  sub- 
tile senses,  are  alike.  For  instance,  a  picture  of  objects 
selected  on  account  of  having  the  same  general  color — as 
a  window  with  a  blue  curtain,  a  table  with  a  blue  spread, 
a  floor  with  a  blue  carpet,  and  a  woman  with  a  blue  dress 
— is  said  to  manifest  harmony  of  color,  or,  as  this  is  tech- 
nically termed,  to7ie.  So  too  a  picture  of  objects  having 
the  same  general  color  but  varied  in  a  way  natural  to  high 
degrees  of  light  and  shade,  is  said  to  manifest  harmony. 
And,  still  again,  a  picture  of  objects  having  colors  ap- 
parently very  different  but  of  the  kind  termed  comple- 
mentary, is  said  to  manifest  harmony.  But  what  are 
complementary  colors?  Science,  by  analyzing  them  has 
ascertained  that,  first  of  all,  they  are  two  colors  that 
together  make  white.  Sometimes,  indeed,  three  colors 
are  said  to  harmonize  ;  but,  in  this  case,  one  of  the  two 
complementary  colors  is  present  and  the  other  colors,  as 
can  be  proved  by  mixing  them,  are  two  that  together 
make  the  second  of  the  complementaries.  For  this  reason, 
the  compound  of  the  three  has  a  like  general  effect  to 
that  of  the  original  one  or  two ;  and  an  analogous  princi- 
ple applies  to  combinations  of  more  colors.  Harmony  in 
hues,  therefore,  in  as  true  a  sense  as  in  sounds,  results 
from  likeness  in  effects.  To  say  nothing  of  physiological 
causes,  just  as  a  mi  or  sol  can  be  said  to  harmonize  with  a 
single  bass  note  of  which  they  are  compounds,  as  well  as 
with  one  another,  the  two  colors  or  the  three  colors  can  be 
said  to  harmonize  on  the  one  hand  with  the  white  light 
necessarily  surrounding  them  of  which  they  are  compounds, 


I40  ART  IN  THEORY, 

and  on  the  other  hand  with  one  another.  In  fact  the 
main  difference  in  art  between  harmony  as  produced  by 
the  selection  of  like  colors  under  like  conditions  of  light 
and  shade,  and  the  harmony  produced  by  the  selection  of 
what  are  termed  harmonious,  in  the  sense  of  comple- 
mentary, colors,  is  that,  in  the  latter,  nature  or  natural 
light  has  completed,  as  it  were,  the  alchemic  processes,  for 
which,  in  the  former,  she  has  merely  presented  the  pre- 
paratory elements. 

To  speak  now  of  physiological  causes,  it  is  noticeable 
that  the  number  of  double  effects  of  color  in  a  ray  of 
light  is  limited  only  by  the  number  of  pairs  into  which 
it  is  possible  to  divide  it ;  yet  that  only  those  effects  are 
pleasurable,  the  relations  between  the  divisions  causing 
which  can  be  represented  by  ratios  so  small — say  between 
r.2  and  5:6,  or  exact  duplicates  of  these — that  the  senses, 
acting,  as  they  seem  to  do,  irrespective  of  conscious  intel- 
lection, can  approximately  determine  these  relations.  Ap- 
parently, because  the  essential  requisite  is  the  like  action 
upon  the  organism  subjected  to  it  of  vibratory  waves  in 
what  is  termed  the  ether  of  the  atmosphere,  it  is  only 
when  these  waves  are  perceived  to  be  alike — i.e.,  of  exactly 
the  same  size,  or  else  fitted  to  go  into  some  other  wave  an 
exact  number  of  times — that  their  effects  are  entirely  satis- 
factory. Just  here  modern  aesthetics  has  been  strangely 
misled  by  physical  science.  The  inventions  of  the  latter 
have  revealed  an  almost  infinite  number  of  pairs  of  colors 
produced  by  different  twin  divisions  of  a  ray  of  light. 
But  not  all  of  these — only  a  very  few  of  them — can  pro- 
duce the  harmony  ascribable  to  what,  in  art,  are  termed 
complementary  colors.  In  fact,  the  same  principle  with 
reference  to  ratios  represented  by  small  numbers  appears 
to  apply  to  waves  both  of  sound  and  of  sight,  although  its 


BEAUTY  THE  RESULT  OF  HARMONY  OF  EFFECTS.    I4I 

application  does  not  involve,  as  some  suppose,  any  exact 
numerical  correspondence  between  the  ratios  representing 
our  present  musical  scale,  as  we  have  constructed  it,  and 
our  present  spectrum,  as  we  interpret  it. 

The  method  of  the  senses  in  receiving  the  impression 
of  what  is  technically  termed  harmony,  may  be  made 
more  apprehensible  by  noticing  the  analogous  method 
through  which  the  conscious  mind  receives  the  impression 
of  such  phases  of  harmony  as  are  associated  with  rhythm 
and  proportion.  An  appreciation  of  rhythm  is  usually 
supposed  to  furnish  the  earliest  evidence  of  aesthetic 
capability  on  the  part  of  either  a  child  or  a  savage.  In 
fact,  almost  the  only  form  of  musical  harmony  over  large 
sections  of  the  earth  to-day  continues  still  to  be  merely  a 
rude  development  of  rhythm.  But  what  is  rhythm  ?  A 
result  of  making,  by  series  of  noises,  or  strokes,  certain 
like  divisions  of  time — small  divisions,  and  exact  multiples 
of  them  in  large  divisions.  But  the  moment  that  the 
smaller  become  so  numerous  that  the  fact  that  they  exactly 
go  into  the  larger  divisions  is  no  longer  perceptible — as 
often,  when  we  hear  more  even  than  eight  notes  in  a 
musical  measure,  or  more  even  than  three  syllables  in  a 
poetic  foot, — the  effect  ceases  to  be  rhythmical.  A  like 
fact  is  true  of  proportion.  Owing  to  the  very  great  pos- 
sibilities and  complications  of  outlining,  as  in  squares, 
angles,  and  curves,  its  laws  are  intricate  and  difficult  to 
apply ;  but,  as  will  be  shown  in  the  volume  of  this  series 
entitled  **  Proportion  and  Harmony  in  Painting,  Sculpture, 
and  Architecture,"  the  harmonic  effects  of  proportion  all 
result,  in  the  last  analysis,  from  exact  divisions  and  subdi- 
visions of  space  in  every  way  analogous  to  the  methods 
underlying  the  effects  of  rhythm  in  time. 

Now  the  question  comes,  Are  all  the  effects  entering 


142  ART  IN    THEORY. 

harmoniously  into  that  complex  result  which  constitutes 
beauty  traceable  to  such  as  influence  merely  the  physical 
organs  of  the  ear  or  eye?  Of  some  of  the  effects  un- 
doubtedly this  must  be  affirmed.  So  far  as  can  be  ascer- 
tained, the  aesthetic  quality  of  a  single  tone  or  color,  as 
also  the  concord  caused  by  the  blending  of  it  with  others, 
is  recognized  to  be  what  it  is  by  the  physical  senses  irre- 
spective of  the  conscious  action  of  the  mind.  Only  the 
analysis  of  science  has  been  able  to  detect  the  way  in 
which,  in  such  cases,  the  effects  are  made  to  harmonize. 
But  can  the  same  be  affirmed  of  all  the  effects  of  beauty? 
Can  it  even  be  affirmed  of  all  of  them  that  are  indis- 
putably connected  with  form  as  form?  How  is  it 
with  the  beauty  of  effects  undoubtedly  imparted 
through  rhythm  and  proportion  ?  These,  certainly^ 
though  apprehended  through  the  physical  senses,  are  rec- 
ognized  only  in  connection  with  the  conscious  action  of 
the  mind.  It  is  because  we  can  consciously  count  the 
beats  and  accents  in  music  and  poetry,  as  well  as  compute 
the  distances  between  straight  lines  and  curves  in  paint- 
ing and  architecture,  that  we  detect  those  results  in  them 
of  exact  measurements  in  time  or  space  causing  rhythm 
or  proportion.  But  if  it  be  true  that  certain  character- 
istics of  art  which  are  determined  only  by  form  demand 
action  on  the  part  both  of  the  senses  irrespective  of  the 
mind  and  of  the  mind  also,  how  much  more  true  must 
this  appear  when  we  consider  that  in  all  cases,  as  shown 
in  Chapter  VI.,  this  form  is,  in  some  sense  at  least,  a  form 
of  expression ;  and  therefore  a  form  of  something  that 
in  any  circumstances  must,  in  some  way,  appeal  to  the 
mind. 

What  now  is  the  best  way  in  which  to  take  up  and  trace 
to  its  sources  the  thread  of  this  suggestion  ?     The  most 


BEAUTY  THE  RESULT  OF  HARMONY  OF  EFFECTS.    1 43 

popular  method  of  the  day,  undoubtedly,  is  that  of  physi- 
ological psychology.  According  to  this,  effects  causing 
rhythm  and  proportion,  which  are  consciously  apprehended 
by  the  mind,  and  those  causing  harmony  of  sound  and 
color,  which  are  unconsciously  apprehended  by  the  senses, 
having  been  discovered  by  science  to  be  the  same  in  prin- 
ciple, it  is  argued  that  all  aesthetic  effects  are  the  same  in 
principle.  Moreover,  it  has  been  discovered  that  not  only 
do  the  nerves  of  the  eye  and  ear  vibrate  as  affected  by 
sound  and  sight,  and  communicate  to  the  brain  intelli- 
gence of  particular  degrees  of  pitch  and  hue  as  deter- 
mined by  the  rates  and  sizes  of  the  vibratory  waves,  but 
it  has  been  proved  beyond  a  doubt  that  the  nerves  con- 
stituting the  substance  of  the  brain  vibrate  also,  and 
thus  give  rise  to  thoughts  and  feelings  ;  and,  not  only 
so,  but  that  the  vibrations  of  the  nerves  in  particular 
parts  of  the  brain  give  rise  to  thoughts  and  feelings  of  a 
particular  character  ;  such,  for  instance,  as  those  con- 
nected with  particular  exercises  of  memory  in  recalling 
general  events  or  specific  terms.  This  fact  has  been 
ascertained  through  various  observations  and  experiments 
in  connection  with  the  loss  or  removal  of  certain  parts  of 
the  brains  of  men  or  animals,  or  with  the  application  of 
electricity  to  certain  systems  of  nerves  accidentally  or  arti- 
ficially exposed  or  else  naturally  accessible.  Of  course, 
such  discoveries  tend  to  the  inference  that  all  conscious 
mental  experience  whatsoever,  precisely  as  in  the  case  of 
sensations  excited  in  the  organs  of  the  eye  and  ear,  are 
effects  of  vibrations  produced  in  the  nerves  of  the  brain. 
If  this  inference  be  justified,  the  line  of  thought  that  we 
have  been  pursuing  apparently  justifies  the  additional  in- 
ference that  all  conscious  mental  experiences  of  the  beau- 
tiful are  effects  of  harmonious  vibrations  produced  in  the 


144  ART  IN    THEORY. 

nerves  of  the  brain.  As  just  indicated  here,  as  well  as  by 
the  reference  to  this  theory  on  page  jj  there  are  many 
facts  that  warrant  us  in  holding  it. 

In  holding  it,  however,  let  us  not  neglect  noticing,  as 
do  many  of  its  advocates,  certain  other  facts.  Through 
the  experiments  of  mesmerism  and  hypnotism,  it  has 
come  to  be  acknowledged  that  the  outer  senses  can  be 
completely  deadened  and  yet  the  inward  processes  of 
intelligence  kept  in  a  state  of  activity  ;  and  not  only  so, 
but  that  sometimes,  merely  at  the  mental  suggestion  of 
an  operator,  irrespective  of  any  appeal  to  the  eye  or  ear, 
irrespective  therefore  of  any  possible  vibrations  in  the 
outer  ether  to  account  for  vibratory  effects  upon  the  physi- 
cal organs  of  the  senses,  the  one  operated  upon  is  made 
to  see  pictures  and  to  hear  music.  In  fact,  do  we  not  all 
have  experiences  of  a  realization  of  the  same  conditions  in 
our  dreams  ? 

Now,  in  such  cases,  either  actual  physical  vibrations 
take  place  in  these  organs,  or  else  they  do  not  take  place 
for  the  simple  reason  that  they  are  not  necessary  to  the 
result ;  and  whichever  of  these  theories  we  adopt,  we  are 
forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  effects  of  beauty  are  de- 
pendent upon  influences  operating  in  what  we  understand 
to  be  the  sphere  of  the  mind.  They  are  awakened  there 
by  the  mesmerizer  irrespective  of  any  appeal  through  the 
outer  senses,  and,  when  awakened,  they  operate  so  power- 
fully that  they  produce  either  actual  vibrations  in  the 
senses,  or,  if  not,  at  least  results  identical  with  those 
caused  by  actual  vibrations.  Assuming  now  what  it 
does  not  seem  possible  to  doubt — namely,  that  the  exist- 
ence of  these  vibrations  constitutes  the  substance  of  that 
of  which  we  are  conscious  in  aesthetic  effects  ;  that  these 
vibrations  are,  so  to  speak,  indispensable  to  the  operation 


BEAUTY  THE  RESULT  OF  HARMONY  OF  EFFECTS.    I45 

of  the  battery  of  the  brain,  which  without  them  cannot 
communicate  their  peculiar  influence  to  intelligence, — 
what  are  we  to  infer,  when  we  find  that  they  can  be  set  in 
motion  not  only  from  the  physical  side,  but — as  in  cases 
of  hypnotism,  telepathy,  dreams  about  music  and  paint- 
ing, etc. — from  the  non-physical  side  ? — what  but  that  on 
this  latter  side  also  the  same  vibrations  exist,  or,  if  not 
so,  a  force  capable  of  causing  the  same  ;  and  that  the 
sphere  in  which  we  are  mentally  conscious  of  the  vibra- 
tions, or  the  sphere  of  personal  consciousness,  as  we 
may  call  it,  occupies  a  region  between  the  material  and 
what  we  may  term — because  we  cannot  conceive  of  it 
as  otherwise — the  immaterial?  Add  to  this  another  fact 
universally  admitted,  which  is  that  vibrations  harmonious 
in  the  sense  that  has  been  explained  are  particularly  agree- 
able, whereas  inharmonious  vibrations  are  particularly 
disagreeable  ;  and  why  have  we  not,  from  modern  science, 
a  suggestion  of  the  possibility  of  there  being  exact  truth 
in  the  theory  of  Pythagoras  and  the  earlier  Greeks,  who 
held  that  the  mode  of  life  so  far  as  it  is  normal,  true, 
divine,  blissful,  is  not  only  physically  but  spiritually  a 
mode  of  harmony,  a  mode  fitted  to  produce  a  literal 
*'  music  of  the  spheres  "  ?  As  has  been  said,  our  minds 
are  conscious  of  experiencing  from  a  world  which  we  can 
see  and  hear  harmonious  effects  which  are  identical  with 
effects  coming  from  a  world  of  which  we  can  only  think 
and  feel.  Now  if  by  scientific  analysis  we  can  ascertain 
the  method  through  which  effects  come  from  the  one,  why 
have  we  not  a  right  to  argue  that  it  is  through  the  same 
method  that  they  come  from  the  other?  Nor  does  it 
necessarily  lessen  the  force  of  this  argument  to  point  out 
— if  indeed  this  can  be  satisfactorily  done — that  the  sensa- 
tions of  music  cannot  be  communicated  from  the  imma- 


14^  ART  IN    THEORY. 

terial  side  to  those  who  have  been  born  deaf,  nor  the 
sensations  of  color  to  those  who  have  been  born  blind. 
These  facts  prove  simply  an  absence  of  the  needed  condi- 
tions, an  absence,  that  is,  of  a  nerve-battery  sufficiently 
developed  to  be  able  to  record  vibrations  physically 
recognizable  only  through  the  eye  or  ear,  without  which 
battery  the  mind  as  limited  by  its  present  physical  sur- 
roundings can,  perhaps,  be  made  distinctly  conscious  of 
nothing. 

These  questions,  however,  concerning  the  significance 
of  the  possibility  of  exciting  to  mental  processes  in  other 
ways  than  through  the  senses,  pertain  to  psychology  rather 
than  to  aesthetics.  Whether  or  not,  as  some  think,  this 
possibility  implies  the  existence  of  a  spirit  capable  of  acting 
independently  of  the  body  though  now  temporarily  con- 
nected with  it,  there  is  no  doubt  that,  in  view  of  the  influ- 
ence which  the  vibrations  of  the  nerves  undoubtedly  have 
upon  mental  processes,  as  well  as  the  mental  processes  upon 
the  nerves,  the  supposition  is  rational  that  the  mental  pro- 
cesses themselves,  together  with  whatever  may  be  their 
organic  sources,  are  in  some  way  subject — just  as  are  heat, 
magnetism,  and  electricity,  which  certainly  approach  them 
in  subtlety — to  the  same  laws  of  vibration,  the  harmony 
of  the  effects  of  which  produces  the  sensation  of  beauty 
in  the  senses.  So  rational,  too,  is  the  supposition,  that 
no  system  of  aesthetics  can  afford  to  ignore  it.  This 
would  be  just  as  injudicious,  to  use  no  stronger  term,  as 
to  treat  it,  in  our  present  state  of  uncertainty  with  refer- 
ence to  it,  as  the  sole  determining  consideration.  In  this 
system  nothing  will  be  found  inconsistent  with  the  univer- 
sal applicability  of  the  vibratory  theory,  though  its  spiritual 
aspects  will  be  recognized  as  resting  upon  no  more  in^^l- 
lible  foundation  than  an  argument  from  analogy. 


BEAUTY  THE  RESULT  OF  HARMONY  OF  EFFECTS.    1 47 

Fortunately,  too,  the  thoughts  and  feelings  as  they 
appear  in  consciousness  are  of  themselves  sufficient  for 
the  purposes  of  aesthetics  aside  from  any  question  of  the 
conditions,  whether  vibratory  or  not,  that  produce  them. 
With  reference  to  this  subject,  however,  the  reader  may 
be  interested  in  some  additional  suggestions  which  he  will 
find  in  the  appendix  on  page  245. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FURTHER    CONSIDERATIONS    SHOWING   BEAUTY   TO 

RESULT   FROM   MENTAL  AS  WELL  AS   FROM 

PHYSICAL  EFFECTS. 

End  in  View  in  this  Discussion — Complexity  of  Effect  can  be  Recognized 
only  through  Mental  Analysis — A  Form  Conjured  by  Imagination 
Coincident  with  Every  Form  Appealing  to  the  Senses — This  Fact 
Illustrated  in  the  Case  of  Music — Of  Poetry — Of  the  Arts  of  Sight — 
Harmony  of  Effects  as  Produced  within  the  Mind  Means  Likeness  of 
Effects — Between  Effects  upon  the  Ear  and  Mind  as  in  Music  and 
Poetry — Between  Effects  upon  the  Eye  and  Mind  as  in  Painting, 
Sculpture,  and  Architecture — Between  Effects  of  Different  Elements 
of  Significance  as  Appealing  to  Recollection,  Association,  and  Sugges- 
tion in  All  the  Arts — Additional  Methods  of  Showing  the  Presence  of 
Mental  Effects — Effects  Operating  Harmoniously  upon  the  Senses, 
Not  Harmonizing  with  those  upon  the  Mind — Effects  not  Operating 
Harmoniously  upon  the  Senses  Harmonizing  with  those  upon  the 
Mind — These  Facts  Necessitate  Including  Mental  Effects  with  those 
of  Beauty — But  Complete  Beauty  Demands  Harmony  of  both  Physical 
and  Mental  Effects — Significance  as  well  as  Form  an  Element  of 
Beauty. 

npURNING  from  the  theoretical  phases  of  our  subject, 
it  is  time  for  us  to  notice  that,  in  what  was  said  in 
the  last  three  paragraphs  of  Chapter  XII.,  the  practical 
end  that  we  have  had  in  view  has  been  not  a  little  fur- 
thered. Reasons  have  been  presented  furnishing  strong 
presumptive  proof,  scientific,  too,  in  its  nature,  that 
among  the  complex  agencies  entering  into  the  harmonious 
combinations  constituting  beauty,  we  must  include  effects 

143 


FURTHER  CONSIDERATIONS.  149 

produced  upon  the  mind.  Recalling  how  often  critics 
and  artists  go  upon  the  supposition  that  this  is  not  the 
case,  but  that  beauty  and  significance  are  distinct  and 
separate,  let  us  notice  now  some  further  considerations 
serving  to  show  the  accuracy  of  the  view  that  has  here 
been  taken. 

Observe,  first,  that  the  very  complexity  which  has  been 
shown  to  be  essential  to  the  production  of  beauty,  can  be 
recognized  only  by  the  exercise  of  distinctively  mental 
analysis.  Indeed,  the  range  of  the  appreciation  of  beauty 
is  invariably  limited  by  the  ability  of  the  mind  in  this 
direction.  Not  only  in  connection  with  the  recognition 
of  the  effects  of  rhythm  and  proportion,  as  mentioned  on 
page  141,  but  even  of  the  notes  of  a  melody  or  of  a  series 
of  chords,  this  fact  is  shown.  If  these  are  made  to  follow 
one  another  too  rapidly  for  the  mind  to  distinguish  the 
differences  between  them,  or — what  is  the  same  thing — 
their  different  effects,  the  result  is  not  music  but  noise. 
Or  take  the  rim  of  a  wheel  covered  with  harmonious 
colors.  If  this  be  made  to  revolve  too  rapidly  for  the 
mind  to  distinguish  the  different  colors,  the  whole  pro- 
duces only  the  effect  of  a  mixed  color,  usually  of  a  dirty 
white.  A  similar  result  is  produced  in  poetry  by  meta- 
phors or  similes,  the  different  effects  of  which  are  so 
complicated  as  to  appear  mixed,  as  well  as  by  hues,  out- 
lines, or  carvings  of  a  similarly  intricate  nature  in  pictures, 
statues,  or  buildings. 

It  may  be  said,  however,  and  with  reason,  that  this 
mental  analysis  is  not  an  effect  of  beauty  per  se,  but  merely 
an  effect  that  necessarily  accompanies  any  appearance 
perceived  by  a  rational  mind.  Observe  again  then,  that 
in  connection  with  any  concrete  form  influencing  the 
senses,  there  appears  immediately  in  the  mind  a  form  that 


ISO  ART  IN   THEORY. 

in  a  broad  sense  may  be  said  to  be  like  it  and  yet  not 
identical  with  it — a  form  conjured  by  imagination  from  the 
regions  of  recollection,  association,  and  suggestion.  It  is 
simply  a  law  of  the  mind  that  it  cannot  see  one  thing 
without  thinking  of  another.  And  is  not  this  other  thing 
of  which  it  thinks  a  necessary  part  of  the  effect  produced 
by  the  thing  which  it  sees  ?  When  we  study  into  the 
subject,  however,  we  find  that  the  form  of  which  the 
mind  thinks  in  such  a  case,  and  which  furnishes  a  standard 
by  which  to  judge  of  the  object  immediately  presented  to 
view,  is  a  complex  result  of  many  experiences.  "  We  may 
remark,"  says  Immanuel  Kant,  in  his '' Kritik  der  Urtheils- 
kraft,"  as  translated  by  J.  H.  Bernard,  p.  i.,  D.  i.,  §  17,  p. 
Z"],  "■  that  the  imagination  can  not  only  recall,  on  occasion, 
the  signs  for  concepts  long  past,  but  can  also  reproduce 
the  image  of  the  figure  of  the  object  out  of  an  unspeak- 
able number  of  objects  of  different  kinds,  or  even  of  the 
same  kind.  Further,  if  the  mind  is  concerned  with  com- 
parisons, the  imagination  can,  in  all  probability,  actually 
though  unconsciously,  let  one  image  glide  into  another, 
and  thus  by  the  concurrence  of  several  of  the  same  kind 
come  by  an  average,  which  serves  as  the  common  measure 
of  all.  Every  one  has  seen  a  thousand  full-grown  men. 
Now  if  you  wish  to  judge  of  their  normal  size,  estimating 
it  by  means  of  comparison,  the  imagination,  as  I  think, 
allows  a  great  number  of  images  (perhaps  the  whole  thou- 
sand) to  fall  on  one  another.  If  I  am  allowed  to  apply 
here  the  analogy  of  optical  presentation,  it  is  the  space 
where  most  of  them  are  combined,  and  inside  the  contour 
where  the  place  is  illuminated  with  the  most  vivid  colors, 
that  the  average  size  is  cognizable,  which  both  in  height 
and  breadth  is  equally  far  removed  from  the  extreme 
bounds  of  the  greatest  and  the  smallest  stature.     And 


FURTHER   CONSIDERATIONS.  151 

this  is  the  statue  of  a  beautiful  man."  In  other  words, 
according  to  Kant,  the  imagination  acts  in  this  matter  in 
precise  analogy  to  the  method,  discovered  since  his  time, 
of  the  composite  photograph.  So  too,  Eduard  von  Hart- 
mann,  in  his  "  Philosophie  des  Umbewussten,"  as  translated 
by  W.  C.  Coupland,  says,  vol.  i.,  page  270,  that  we  are  com- 
pelled ''to  admit  that  the  beautiful  is  only  possible  in  the 
most  concrete  particularity,  because  individually  intuited 
(e.  g.,  the  human  ideal  as  masculine  and  feminine  ;  the 
former  again  as  ideal  of  the  child,  boy,  youth,  man,  old 
man ;  the  ideal  of  the  man  again  as  ideal  of  a  Hercules, 
Odysseus,  Zeus,  etc.)  ;  that  thus  the  concrete  ideal  must 
be  no  longer  a  vague  unity,  but  an  indefinite  plurality  of 
the  most  definite  types." 

In  accordance  with  the  general  principle  brought  out  in 
these  quotations,  is  it  not  true  that,  in  connection  with 
almost  every  phase  of  beauty  recognized  merely  by  the 
eye  or  ear,  there  is  another  phase  recognized  not  partly,  as 
in  the  cases  of  rhythm  and  proportion  (see  pages  141,  142), 
but  wholly  by  the  mind  ?  Certain  facts  with  which  we 
are  familiar  in  all  the  arts  will  illustrate  this ;  and  first  in 
music.  Notwithstanding  the  extreme  difficulty  of  sepa- 
rating any  musical  effects  whatever  from  such  as  appeal 
merely  to  the  outward  senses,  those  accustomed  to  ana- 
lyze will  become  conscious  of  a  degree  of  aesthetic  enjoy- 
ment not  due  to  an  appeal  to  these  alone,  but  to  certain 
concrete  effects  of  other  well  known  themes  awakened 
in  the  mind  by  way  of  recollection,  association,  or  sug- 
gestion. Even  in  cases  in  which  these  themes  are  not  so 
recalled,  the  aesthetic  pleasure  is  often  enhanced  by  a 
wholly  mental  recognition  of  a  balancing  of  phrase  with 
phrase,  and  of  movement  with  movement,  such  as  we 
find  in  the  blendings  of  melodies  and  their  variations ; 


152  ART  IN   THEORY, 

or  of  two  or  more  themes  or  tunes  as  in  the  overture 
of  Wagner's  "  Tannhauser,"  or  in  the  familiar  "■  Star- 
Spangled  Banner,"  accompanied  by  '*  Yankee  Doodle." 

But  this  combination  of  mental  effects  with  those  of 
form  can  be  recognized  more  clearly  in  connection  with 
poetry.  In  this  art,  besides  the  beauty  which  is  due  to 
phraseology,  as  manifested  in  the  choice  and  sequence  of 
words,  and  in  various  developments  of  assonance,  alliter- 
ation, rhythm,  and  rhyme,  everybody  acknowledges  that 
there  is  also  a  beauty  dependent  upon  the  ideas,  the 
proof  of  which  is  that  it  is  frequently  as  great  in  prose  as 
in  poetry.  But  from  what  does  this  beauty  spring? 
Clearly  and  unmistakably  from  a  combination  of  the 
effects  of  recollection,  association,  and  suggestion,  assum- 
ing concrete  forms  in  the  imagination ;  in  other  words, 
from  the  harmonious  effects  of  many  different  forms,  some 
coming  from  without  and  some  from  within  the  mind, 
some  perceptible  to  sight,  or  recalled  by  memory  as  once 
perceptible  to  sight,  and  some,  according  to  the  laws  of 
the  mind,  merely  conjured  by  fancy.  As  a  rule,  too,  the 
wider  apart  the  spheres  are  from  which  these  effects  are 
derived,  the  more  comprehensive  and  inspiring  is  the 
beauty  resulting  from  their  combination,  as  where  those 
that  are  extremely  material  are  united  to  those  that  are 
extremely  mental,  e.  g.  : 

Still  as  a  slave  before  his  lord, 

The  ocean  hath  no  blast  ; 
His  great  bright  eye  most  silently 

Up  to  the  moon  is  cast. 

—  The  Ancient  Mariner .'  Coleridge. 

A  similar  fact  is  true  in  the  arts  of  sight.  We  some- 
times find,  as  in  the  pictures  of  early  Christian  art,  a 
degree  of  beauty  which  cannot  be  attributed  to  any  ful- 


FURTHER  CONSIDERATIONS.  1 53 

filment  of  the  laws  of  line  or  color,  such  as  meet  the 
physiological  requirements  of  the  eye.  Yet  often  these 
pictures  are  acknowledged  to  possess  great  charm,  owing 
to  what  is  termed,  notwithstanding  the  implication  of 
some  that  it  does  not  exist,  beauty  of  expression.  What 
is  meant  by  this  ?  Careful  analysis  will  show  that  it 
means  that  there  are  evidences  in  them  of  a  blending  of 
separate  and  very  widely  different  effects,  only  a  few  of 
which  are  attributable  to  form  as  form.  The  rest  are 
attributable  to  traits  of  character,  which  certain  of  the 
depicted  faces  and  figures  are  supposed  to  manifest.  But 
is  not  every  trait  of  character  thus  indicated  conjured  by 
the  imagination  of  the  spectator  and  assigned  to  the 
forms  only  so  far  as  they  have  effects  upon  recollections 
of  some  like  form,  or  upon  associations  with  it,  or  else  as 
they  in  some  other  way  suggest  a  significance  which  can 
have  its  origin  only  in  his  mind? 

Possibly,  the  reader  may  find  himself  desiring,  just  here, 
a  further  explanation  of  the  method  through  which,  in 
connection  with  an  appeal  to  the  senses,  harmony  of 
effects  can  be  produced  within  the  mind.  What  is  meant 
by  harmony  of  mental  effects? — Of  course,  the  same 
thing  in  principle  as  when  the  term  is  applied  to  physical 
effects ;  otherwise  it  would  not  be  harmony.  It  means  a 
combination  of  effects — either  of  thoughts  with  forms, 
or  of  thoughts  with  thoughts — that  appeal  to  the  mind  as 
being,  for  some  reason,  alike ;  and  every  department  of 
art  furnishes  abundant  examples  of  this  condition. 

In  music  or  poetry,  for  instance,  harmony  of  effects 
between  those  experienced  in  the  ear  and  in  the  mind 
results  when  one,  in  composing  a  march,  a  waltz,  a  comic 
opera,  or  a  tragic  opera,  or  in  writing  an  elegy,  a  love 
song,  or  an  epic,  selects  for  each  a  representative  form  of 


154  ART  IN   THEORY, 

movement  or  phraseology  of  rhythm  or  verse.     The  fol- 
lowing lines  not  only  enjoin  but  exemplify  this  method : 

But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore, 
The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar. 

Essay  on  Criticism  :  Pope. 

Soft  is  the  strain  when  Zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows. 

Idem, 

In  the  arts  of  sight  the  same  likeness  in  effects  between 
those  upon  the  eye  and  upon  the  mind  is  manifested 
when,  for  instance,  as  in  some  of  Ruysdael's  landscapes, 
or  in  the  sculptured  group  of  ''  Niobe  and  her  Children  " 
in  the  Museum  degl'  Uffizi  at  Florence,  every  cloud, 
wave,  leaf,  limb,  or  shred  of  clothing  on  human  forms 
augments  the  suggestions  naturally  associated  with  the 
indications  of  the  pervading  fury  of  a  tempest ;  or  when, 
as  in  some  of  Claude  Lorraine's  landscapes,  the  light  re- 
flected from  every  tree,  rock,  stream,  and  countenance,  as 
well  as  the  character  or  attitude  of  the  forms  which  it 
illumines,  augments  the  suggestions  naturally  associated 
with  the  glow  of  sunshine  that  pours  from  the  sky. 

Harmony  of  effects  among  different  elements  of  signifi- 
cance in  form  as  they  appeal  to  recollection,  association, 
or  suggestion,  is  due  mainly  to  perceiving  that  the  objects 
made  to  go  together  are  such  as  we  are  accustomed  to 
think  of  as  going  together.  For  instance,  this  phase  of 
harmony  is  fulfilled  in  an  opera  or  poem,  when  all  the 
scenes  or  events  representing  a  certain  country  or  period 
conform  strictly  to  the  conditions  of  each.  It  was  this 
that  was  sought  to  be  fulfilled  in  the  old  law  of  criticism 
ascribed  to  the  Greeks,  enjoining  that  a  drama  should 
contain  only  as  much  as  might  be  supposed  to  take  place  in 
the  time  given  to  the  representation,  or,  at  most,  in  one  day, 


FURTHER   CONSIDERATIONS,  I  55 

and  in  one  place,  and  with  one  kind  of  action,  by  which 
latter  was  meant  with  either  tragic  or  comic  situations, 
but  not  with  both.  This  ''  law  of  the  unities  "  of  time, 
place,  and  action,  as  it  is  called,  although  it  cannot  be 
applied  universally,  is  based  at  least  upon  a  true  princi- 
ple. Brevity,  local  color,  and  directness  are  always  ele- 
ments of  artistic  excellence.  It  is  largely  the  degree  in 
which  these  are  manifested  that  imparts  the  peculiar 
flavor,  the  pervasive  atmosphere,  that  seems  to  be  the 
distinctive  characteristic  of  poems  like  Goethe's  "  Her- 
mann und  Dorothea,"  Keats'  "  St.  Agnes'  Eve,"  Gold- 
smith's "  Deserted  Village,"  Campbell's  "  Gertrude  of 
Wyoming,"  and  Tennyson's  ''  Gardener's  Daughter"  and 
"  Enoch  Arden,"  not  to  speak  of  longer  poems  like  the 
"  Faerie  Queen  "  and  the  "  Idyls  of  the  King."  In  the 
arts  of  sight  this  same  phase  of  harmony  is  fulfilled  when, 
for  instance,  Oriental  scenery  and  Moorish  architecture, 
Italian  scenery  and  Renaissance,  Northern  French  and 
Gothic,  are  made  to  go  together,  as  also  the  costumes  or 
attitudes  of  certain  figures,  and  the  appearances  of  cer- 
tain places  or  periods ;  as  well  as  certain  outlines  or 
colors,  and  certain  delineations  of  war,  peace,  fright,  sor- 
row, or  merriment.  These  subjects,  however,  involve 
matters  of  detail  not  pertinent  to  the  present  discussion. 
They  will  be  found  treated  in  full  in  the  volumes  of  this 
series  entitled  '*  The  Genesis  of  Art-Form  "  and  "  Propor- 
tion and  Harmony  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architec- 
ture." Let  us  return  now  to  the  line  of  thought  on  account 
of  which  these  references  have  here  been  made. 

The  necessity  of  including  in  our  conception  of  beauty 
effects  that  are  exerted  upon  the  mind  may  be  brought 
out  more  forcibly  than  has  yet  been  done,  perhaps,  by 
separating  the  physiological  and  psychological  factors  of 


15^  ART  IN   THEORY. 

the  general  result,  and  showing — somewhat  as  was  done 
at  the  opening  of  the  last  chapter,  but  now,  owing  to  the 
explanations  since  given,  with  added  significance — first, 
that  a  complexity  of  effects  containing  all  the  elements 
of  harmony  as  far  as  producible  in  the  eye  or  ear,  may 
fail  of  complete  beauty  because  not  harmonizing,  as  a 
whole,  with  the  requirements  of  the  mind  ;  and,  second, 
that  a  complexity  of  effects  lacking  the  elements  of  har- 
mony so  far  as  producible  in  the  eye  or  ear,  may  neverthe- 
less have  partial  beauty  because,  as  a  whole,  it  does 
harmonize  with  the  requirements  of  the  mindo 

In  the  first  place,  there  are  forms  made  up  of  complex 
effects  containing  every  element  of  beauty,  so  far  as  con- 
cerns their  appeal  to  the  eye  or  ear,  and  yet  which,  on 
account  of  the  character  of  their  appeal  to  the  mind,  no 
delicately  organized  aesthetic,  to  say  nothing  of  moral, 
nature  could  declare  to  be,  in  anything  like  a  satisfactory 
or  complete  degree,  beautiful.  Instead  of  this,  their 
beauty  in  any  degree  might  be  denied.  Take  a  scene  of 
debauchery — a  mingling  of  vice  and  nakedness — could 
any  amount  of  faultless  music  or  physique  make  this 
seem  to  a  pure  mind  other  than  disgusting  and  revolt- 
ing ?  And  could  the  effects  of  beauty  be  fully  experi- 
enced, or  consciously  experienced  at  all,  in  connection 
with  either  feeling?  Notwithstanding  every  argument 
or  example  of  immoral  art,  there  is  but  one  answer  to 
this  question.  Certainly  they  could  not,  and  why  not  ? 
Because  the  effects  which  act  together  harmoniously,  so 
far  as  concerns  their  influence  upon  the  ear  or  eye,  are 
accompanied  by  other  effects  produced  through  the 
agency  of  the  imagination  calling  up  forms  from  the 
realms  of  recollection,  association,  and  suggestion  ;  and 
with  these  latter  effects  those  from  without  are  discor- 
dant.    For  this  reason,  in  most  cases  and  to  most  per- 


FURTHER   CONSIDERATIONS.  1 57 

sons,  the  general  combination  of  effects,  as  made  up  of 
those  both  from  without  and  from  within,  is  discordant. 

Now  notice,  in  the  second  place,  that  there  are  forms 
the  inharmonious  effects  of  which  upon  the  senses  render 
them  incapable  of  appearing  beautiful,  considered  merely 
as  forms ;  and  yet  on  account  of  other  accompanying 
effects  exerted  upon  the  mind,  these  same  forms  often 
manifest,  not  a  little,  but  a  great  degree  of  beauty. 
Recall,  for  instance,  many  a  tone  expressive  of  joy,  ad- 
miration, wonder,  surprise,  as  it  is  uttered  upon  the  stage, 
not  only  in  dramas  that  are  spoken,  but  in  operas  that  are 
sung  ;  and  yet  such  tones,  having  all  the  scientific  quali- 
ties of  noise  and  not  of  music,  have  precisely  the  thrilling 
and  inspiring  effects  upon  thought  and  emotion  that  are 
ascribed  to  beauty.  It  is  the  same  with  lines.  The  rigid 
straightness  and  irregularity  which,  and  which  alone,  are 
to  the  mind  expressive  of  passion,  either  rightly  or  wrongly 
impelled,  do  not  in  themselves  considered,  whether  used 
in  dramatic  representation  or  in  pictures  or  statues,  con- 
tain any  harmonious  elements  such  as  must  appeal  to  the 
eye  before  a  form  can  produce  upon  it  the  physical  effect 
of  beauty.  So  with  colors.  In  connection  with  certain 
scenes  or  figures  the  effects  which  the  mind  attributes  to 
beauty  may  often  be  received  from  forms  depicted  in  hues 
that  to  the  eye  alone  appear  to  be  only  dingy,  mixed, 
and  sometimes  positively  inharmonious. 

Nor  is  it  true,  as  applied  to  all  of  these  cases,  that  the 
principle  of  contrast,  as  ordinarily  understood,  accounts 
for  all  of  the  facts ;  these  inharmonious  effects  do  not 
seem  beautiful  merely  because  they  offset  and  throw  into 
greater  relief  accompanying  effects  that  appeal  to  the 
senses  as  harmonious.  The  tones,  attitudes,  colors  of  the 
kinds  to  which  reference  has  been  made — take  all  of  them 
as  represented  in  the  character  of  Meg  Mcrrilies  as  acted 


I5S  ART  IN   THEORY. 

by  Charlotte  Cushman,  or  the  last  two  as  in  the  picture  of 
Ellen  Terry  as  Lady  Macbeth,  painted  by  Sargent — often 
owe  their  effect  not  to  the  fact  that  they  set  off  some- 
thing else  that  is  in  the  form.  They  owe  it  to  the  fact 
that  they  unite  and  harmonize  with  something  else  that 
is  not  in  the  form.  The  mind  receives  aesthetic  impres- 
sions from  a  form  which,  as  a  form,  would  not  produce 
a  harmony  of  complex  effects,  because,  notwithstanding 
the  general  effect  produced  by  the  outward  appearance 
upon  the  senses,  this  effect  is  of  such  a  nature  that  it  unites 
harmoniously  with  other  effects  of  recollection,  associa- 
tion, and  suggestion,  which  are  traceable  solely  to  influ- 
ences at  work  upon  the  mind. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  however,  that  objects  of  the 
class  of  which  we  have  been  speaking  can  be  considered 
beautiful  to  only  a  limited  extent.  Beauty  is  complete 
and  ideal  in  the  degree  only  in  which  those  results  of  it 
attributable  to  effects  upon  the  ear  or  eye  are  com- 
bined with  those  attributable  to  effects  upon  the  mind. 
All  the  Wagner  operas  are  filled  with  the  most  exquisitely 
melodious  and  harmonic  passages  appealing,  as  such,  solely 
to  the  organs  of  hearing ;  and  yet  these  are  combined 
with  other  effects  which,  were  they  unaccompanied  by  the 
former,  would  be  beautiful  on  account  of  their  suggestive- 
ness  to  the  mind.  A  proof  of  this  is  that,  while  the  mere 
orchestration  of  these  operas  is  thoroughly  enjoyable  to 
musicians,  the  acting  of  them  is  thoroughly  enjoyable  to 
many  who  are  not  musicians,  even  in  the  very  limited 
sense  of  having  what  are  termed  musical  ears.  So  with 
poetry.  A  description  of  a  ride  on  horseback  like  that  in 
Browning's  "  How  They  Brought  the  Good  News  from 
Ghent,"  can  be  read  by  a  good  elocutionist  so  that  all  his 
audience  will  imagine  that  what  has  affected  them  is  the 
form  in  which  it  is  expressed.     Yet  a  poor  reader,  unable 


FURTHER   CONSIDERATIONS.  1 59 

to  bring  out  the  characteristics  of  the  form  so  as  to  make 
them  recognized,  can  hold  the  attention  of  his  audience 
by  what  they  will  all  receive  from  merely  the  story  that 
is  expressed  through  the  form. 

In  painting  and  sculpture  the  same  is  true.  John 
G.  MacVicar,  indeed,  in  his  work  "  On  the  Beautiful, 
the  Picturesque,  and  the  Sublime,"  asserts,  as  already 
noticed,  ''  that  as  objects  lose  more  beauty  they  acquire 
more  expression,  and  that  the  most  regularly  beauti- 
ful countenances  are  usually  the  most  inexpressive." 
But  this  can  be  afifirmed  of  countenances  so  far  only  as 
the  regularity  of  their  beauty  is,  for  some  reason,  lacking  in 
suggestions  of  complexity  ;  and  in  the  human  countenance 
especially,  these  are  always  somewhat  lacking  where  there 
is  nothing  representative  of  a  mental  source  of  joy  or  seri- 
ousness underneath.  In  any  case  too,  as  we  shall  find  in 
the  next  chapter,  an  absence  of  opposing  influences  of 
variety  in  connection  with  that  which  overcomes  them, 
necessarily  lessens  the  charm  which  is  characteristic  of  the 
kind  of  unity  that  we  look  for  in  beauty.  Accordingly 
one  can  say  that  the  opinion  advanced  by  MacVicar  is 
true  only  of  faces  and  forms  of  that  placid,  unanimated, 
unspiritualized  type  of  regularity  in  which  all  expression, 
i,  e.y  all  effects  upon  the  mind,  are  subordinated  to  effects 
upon  the  senses.  In  nature  as  well  as  in  art,  the  type  is 
common.  But  is  it  universal  ?  Think  of  the  faces — all 
of  them — in  Raphael's  Sistine  Madonna.  Are  they  not 
beautiful  in  form?  But  are  they  not  also  much  more 
beautiful  in  expression  ? 

The  truth  is  that  the  theory  that  the  highest  beauty 
can  exist  aside  from  expression,  or  irrespective  of  expres- 
sion, or  of  the  quality  of  that  expression,  which  seems  to 
be  held  by  many,  especially  by  certain  painters  and  liter- 
ary men  of  the  present,  is  not  founded  upon  any  accurate 


l6o  ART  IN   THEORY. 

or  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  subject.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  essential  element  of  beauty  is  harmony  resulting 
from  complexity  of  effects,  and  the  greater  the  number 
of  the  effects  upon  the  mind  that  can  be  added  to  effects 
upon  the  senses,  the  greater,  at  times,  is  the  amount  of 
the  beauty.  A  single  note  is  beautiful,  as  has  been  said, 
because  compounded  of  two  or  three  different  tones;  but 
it  is  usually  more  beautiful  when  heard  in  connection  with 
a  melody  or  chord  or  series  of  chords  that  multiply  the 
complexity  many  scores  of  times.  The  note  is  still  more 
beautiful  when,  in  addition  to  this,  it  resembles,  so  as 
clearly  to  represent,  some  natural  or  conventional  method 
of  expression,  and  therefore  some  effect  of  emotion,  and 
in  connection  with  this  a  combination  of  the  effects  of 
many  different  emotions.  So  with  poems,  pictures, 
statues,  and  buildings ;  they  are  all  made  more  beautiful, 
the  more  their  harmony  results  from  effects  of  appar- 
ent complexity  in  the  form,  and  more  beautiful  still,  the 
more,  in  addition  to  this,  it  results  from  the  mental  ef- 
fects of  images  recalled  in  memory  or  conjured  by  imagi- 
nation, as  well  as  of  infinite  ranges  and  spheres  of  these. 
In  fact,  this  increase  of  beauty  always  continues  up  to 
the  point  where  confusion  begins.  This  is  true  even  of 
the  blending  of  effects  from  different  arts,  as  where  to 
those  of  melody  are  added  those  first  of  harmony,  then 
of  poetry,  then  of  acting,  then  of  dancing,  then  of  paint- 
ing, then  of  sculpture,  then  of  architecture,  till,  finally,  we 
have  all  the  components  of  a  Wagnerian  opera.  In  all 
such  cases,  up  to  the  point  where  confusion  begins — but 
it  must  be  confessed  that  with  some,  perhaps  with  most 
people,  it  begins  long  before  the  list  is  completed — there 
is  an  apprehensible  increase  of  the  distinctly  aesthetic  in- 
fluence. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

BEAUTY   DEFINED  :     TASTE. 

Recapitulation — Definition  of  Beauty — Limitations  of  the  Definition — Re- 
lation of  the  Beautiful  to  the  Sublime,  the  Brilliant,  and  the  Picturesque 
— Applies  to  Appearances  in  both  Nature  and  Art — In  both  Time  and 
Space — What  the  Definition  necessarily  Leaves  Unexplained  ;  and 
how  in  this  System  this  is  to  be  Remedied — All  Effects  of  Beauty 
Developed  from  the  Principle  of  Putting  Like  with  Like — This  Princi- 
ple as  Applied  by  the  Artist  in  Accordance  with  the  Action  of  the 
Mind  in  Other  Analogous  Matters — As  Exemplified  in  Art  in  Accord- 
ance with  Effects  as  Manifested  in  Nature — This  Conception  of  Beauty 
and  its  Sources  Solves  the  Question  as  to  whether  Art  can  be  merely 
Imitative  or  merely  Expressive — Taste — Correspondence  of  its  Action 
to  that  of  Conscience  and  Judgment — Standards  of  Taste. 

TI7  NOUGH  has  been  said  now  with  reference  to  this 
subject  to  enable  the  reader  to  perceive  clearly  the 
reasons  for  the  conclusions  toward  which  the  whole  dis- 
cussion has  been  tending,  namely,  that  the  highest  beauty, 
in  all  its  different  phases,  results,  as  is  the  case  in  other 
departments  of  excellence,  from  harmony  in  effects. 
Analyzing  the  elements  of  these  effects,  carries  with  it  the 
additional  conclusion  that,  so  far  as  beauty  is  physical,  it 
results  when  sounds,  shapes,  or  colors  harmonize  together 
and  in  such  ways  that  their  combinations  harmonize  with 
the  natural  requirements  of  the  physical  senses — ears  or 
eyes—that  are  addressed  ;  that,  so  far  as  beauty  is  psychi- 
cal, it  results  when  the  thoughts  and  feelings  suggested  or 
expressed  through  forms  harmonize  together,  and  also  with 

i6x 


1 62  ART  IN    THEORY, 

the  natural  requirements  of  the  mind  addressed  ;  and 
that,  so  far  as  beauty  is  both  physical  and  psychical,  it 
results  when  all  the  elements  entering  into  both  physical 
and  psychical  effects  harmonize  together,  and  also  with 
the  combined  requirements  of  both  the  senses  and  the 
mind.  In  this  latter  case,  it  will  be  observed  that  the 
complete  beauty  which  results  necessitates  something 
more  than  that  which  is  either  formal  or  expressional.  It 
can  be  obtained  in  the  degree  only  in  which  a  form  beau- 
tiful in  itself  fits  a  beautiful  ideal  conjured  in  the  mind  by 
the  imagination  as  a  result  of  a  harmonious  combination 
of  thoughts  and  feelings. 

To  express  all  this  in  language  as  concise  as  possible,  we 
may  say  that  beauty  is  a  characteristic  of  any  complex  form 
of  varied  elements  producing  apprehensible  unity  {i.  e.,  har- 
mony or  likeness)  of  effects  upon  the  motive  organs  of  sen- 
sation in  the  ear  or  eye,  or  upon  the  emotive  sources  of  im- 
agination in  the  mind  ;  or  upon  both  the  one  and  the  other. 

Of  course,  this  definition  is  a  broad  one,  but  so  is  the 
subject.  The  question  of  the  origin  of  beauty — whether 
in  the  appearances  of  nature  together  with  the  inferences 
that  men  draw  from  them,  as  the  materialists  claim,  or  in 
ideals  in  the  mind  of  man  or  of  God,  to  which  natural 
appearances  must  be  conformed,  as  the  idealists  claim, 
— the  definition  leaves  undecided ;  but  a  knowledge  of 
sources  is  not  necessary  to  an  apprehension  of  results. 

Nor  does  this  definition  say  anything  about  the  differ- 
ences between  the  beautiful  and  the  sublime  or  the 
picturesque,  which,  since  the  essay  of  Burke  upon  "The 
Sublime  and  the  Beautiful,"  almost  every  English  writer 
has  deemed  it  important  to  bring  to  the  front.  In  the 
appropriate  place,  it  will  be  shown  that,  as  related  to  the 
elements  constituting  beauty,  the  sublime,  which  at  times 


BEAUTY  DEFINED  :    TASTE.  1 63 

may  be  sublimely  beautiful,  emphasizes  in  a  peculiar  way 
the  significance,  whereas  the  brilliant,  which,  and  not  the 
beautiful,  contrasts  with  the  subHme,  emphasizes  thus  the 
form,  while  the  picturesque  emphasizes  neither  significance 
nor  form  sufficiently  to  cause  either  to  predominate. 

One  characteristic  the  definition  has  which  is  important. 
It  applies  equally  to  all  beauty,  whether  manifested  in 
nature  or  in  art.  How  important  this  fact  is,  may  be  in- 
ferred from  a  remark  made  by  Hegel,  as  translated  by 
J.  S.  Kedney  in  his  *'  Critical  Exposition  of  Hegel's  Es- 
thetics." "  It  has  never  entered  into  the  mind  of  any 
one,"  he  says,  '^  to  develop  the  point  of  view  of  the  beauti- 
ful in  the  objects  of  nature,  to  give  an  exposition  of  these 
sorts  of  beauties.  We  feel  ourselves  upon  too  shifting  a 
ground,  in  a  field  vague  and  indeterminate.  A  criterion 
is  wanting," — a  remark  which,  among  others,  leads  Dr. 
Kedney  to  add  (part  i,  chapter  i.)  that  ''  both  Kant  and 
Hegel,  when  they  think  of  the  beautiful,  have  in  mind  the 
productions  of  art,  and  only  reluctantly  allow  place  to 
the  beautiful  in  nature,  as  though  art  almost  monopolized 
the  beautiful,  and  in  it  alone  beauty,  the  highest  and 
purest,  was  to  be  found." 

Another  characteristic  of  this  definition,  is  that  it  ap- 
plies equally  well  to  beauty  whether  appealing  in  time  or 
in  space,  to  the  ear  or  to  the  eye,  as  manifested  in  grace 
of  movement  or  of  outline,  in  richness  of  tone  or  of  color. 
This  breadth  of  applicability  is  essential  to  comprehen- 
siveness ;  and  it  is  largely  the  lack  of  the  latter  in  many 
attempted  definitions  that  explains  their  failure. 

It  has  to  be  acknowledged,  however,  that  the  definition, 
being  broad,  leaves  much  to  be  explained ;  but  so  does 
any  definition,  the  only  difference  between  a  good  one  and 
a  bad  one  being  that  the  former  clearly  indicates  exactly 


164  ART  IN   THEORY, 

what  it  is  that  needs  explaining.  What  needs  explaining 
in  this  one,  is  the  particular  methods  through  which  like- 
ness in  effects  can  be  produced  in  the  senses,  and  in  the 
mind,  and  in  both.  These  methods,  of  course,  are  those 
that  secure  beauty;  and  certain  of  the  remaining  volumes 
of  this  series  will  be  devoted  to  explaining  them.  In 
"■  The  Genesis  of  Art-Form, '°  **  Rhythm  and  Harmony  in 
Poetry  and  Music,"  and  **  Proportion  and  Harmony  of 
Line  and  Color,"  aesthetics  will  be  considered  in  its  rela- 
tion to  form, — a  point  of  view  which,  if  there  be  any 
truth  in  the  theory  just  advanced,  will  necessitate  an  ex- 
haustive examination  of  the  methods  to  which  we  have 
just  referred.  In  these  volumes,  reversing  the  process  of 
induction  which  has  been  followed  here,  and  using  that 
of  deduction,  the  necessity  of  unity  in  mental  processes 
will  be  treated  first,  and  then  the  fact  of  variety  together 
with  complexity  as  characteristic  of  natural  appearances. 
After  that,  from  these  simple  germinal  conditions,  all  the 
elements  of  natural  beauty  and  of  art-composition,  as 
ordinarily  taught  or  logically  suggested,  will  be  shown  to 
be  naturally  developed,  as  indicated  in  the  table  on  page 
165,  taken  from  **The  Genesis  of  Art-Form," 

This  table,  without  further  explanations,  may  suggest 
a  complicated  system,  difficult  to  understand  and  to  apply. 
But  any  suggestion  of  this  kind  will  vanish  the  moment 
that  it  comes  to  be  recognized  that  each  of  the  different 
methods  is  merely  one  more  illustration,  under  slightly 
different  conditions,  of  a  single  principle,  and  this  the 
very  simple  one,  mentioned  many  times  already,  namely, 
putting  like  with  like — so  far,  at  least,  as  this  is  possible. 

In  '*  The  Genesis  of  Art-Form,"  moreover,  it  is  shown 
that  the  action  of  the  mind  when  carrying  out  this  prin- 
ciple in  art,  is  in  exact  accordance  with  its  action  in  other 


O     V, 

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1 66  ART  IN   THEORY. 

analogous  matters.  It  is  pointed  out  that  all  knowledge, 
and  not  only  this,  but  all  understanding  and  application 
of  the  laws  of  botany,  mineralogy,  psychology,  or  the- 
ology, depends  on  the  degree  in  which  a  man  learns  to 
separate  certain  plants,  rocks,  mental  activities,  or  religious 
dogmas  from  others,  and  to  unite  and  classify  and  name 
them  ;  that  without  classification  to  begin  with,  there 
can  be  no  knowledge,  no  understanding,  no  efficient  use 
of  the  materials  which  nature  furnishes.  The  physicist  is 
able  to  recognize,  relate,  and  reproduce  effects  only  in 
the  degree  in  which  he  is  able  to  classify  the  appearances 
and  laws,  the  facts  and  forces  of  material  nature.  The 
metaphysician  is  able  to  know,  and  prove,  and  guide  to 
right  action  only  in  the  degree  in  which  he  is  able  to  clas- 
sify feelings,  conceptions,  and  volitions  with  their  motives 
and  tendencies  as  they  arise  in  mental  consciousness  and 
manifest  themselves  in  action.  Accordingly,  just  as  the 
physicist  classifies  effects  conditioned  upon  laws  operating 
beneath  phenomena  of  a  physical  nature,  and  the  psy- 
chologist classifies  effects  conditioned  upon  laws  opera- 
ting underneath  phenomena  of  a  psychical  nature,  so  the 
artist  classifies  effects  conditioned  upon  laws  operating 
underneath  phenomena  of  an  artistic  nature.  Or,  to  ex- 
press the  same  in  other  words,  science  classifies  facts; 
philosophy,  theories  ;  and  art,  forms  or  appearances  ;  and 
in  all  three  cases  the  general  process  is  the  same.  Like 
is  put  with  like,  if  possible  ;  and,  if  not  possible,  things 
are  grouped  according  to  principles  of  mental  association, 
which  make  them  have  like  effects  upon,  at  least,  the  mind. 
Nor  is  it  difficult  to  prove  that  this  principle  of  like 
effects  joined  with  like,  is  at  the  basis  of  beauty  as  pro- 
duced by  the  natural  appearances  which  art  imitates.  A 
man,  when  classifying  rocks,  puts  together  mentally  those 


BEAUTY  DEFINED  :    TASTE,  1 67 

that  are  alike.  But  so  does  nature,  grouping  them  in 
the  same  mountain  ranges,  or  at  the  bottoms  of  the  same 
streams.  He  puts  together  leaves,  and  feathers,  and 
hairs  that  are  alike.  But  so  does  nature,  clustering  them 
on  the  same  trees,  and  birds,  and  animals.  He  puts  to- 
gether human  beings  that  are  alike.  But  so  does  nature, 
giving  birth  to  them  in  the  same  families,  races,  cHmates, 
and  countries.  In  fact,  a  man's  mind  is  a  part  of  nature  ; 
and  when  working  naturally,  he  works  as  nature  does.  He 
combines  elements  as  a  result  of  classification,  in  accord- 
ance with  methods  analogous  to  those  in  which  nature, 
or  "  the  mind  in  nature,"  combines  them.  Indeed,  he 
would  never  have  thought  of  this  process  unless  in  nature 
itself  he  had  first  perceived  the  beginnings  of  it.  He 
would  never  have  conceived  of  grouping  all  horses  in  the 
same  class,  nor  have  been  able  to  conceive  of  it,  unless 
nature  had  first  made  horses  alike.  To  put  together  the 
factors  of  an  art-product,  therefore,  in  accordance  with 
the  methods  of  classification,  does  not  involve  any  process 
inconsistent  with  representing  accurately  the  forms  that 
appear  in  the  world.  These  forms  themselves  are  made 
up  of  factors  apparently  put  together  in  the  same  way, 
though  not  to  the  same  extent.  In  fact,  in  whatever 
light  we  view  this  subject  the  strongest  possible  evidence 
seems  to  be  afforded  of  the  substantial  agreement  of  the 
theory  of  beauty  which  has  been  here  unfolded  with  all 
that  can  be  known  of  the  laws  of  the  mind,  or  of  those  of 
nature  as  related  to  it. 

The  reader  may  be  interested  in  noticing,  too,  how  it 
simplifies  the  question  with  reference  to  the  artist's  aims 
to  get  down  to  this  principle  underlying  his  methods. 
We  are,  at  last,  entirely  outside  of  the  range  of  any  pos- 
sibility of  conceiving  of  the  work  of  the  artist  as  anything 


l68  ART  IN   THEORY, 

that  can  be  accomplished  either  by  mere  imitation  or  by 
mere  expression.  Only  rarely  does  nature  furnish  him 
with  forms  that  he  can  imitate  as  wholes.  If  he  wish  to 
produce  effects  of  beauty  as  in  symphonies,  poems,  build- 
ings, even,  often,  as  in  pictures  and  statues,  he  can  do  this 
only  by  so  combining  elements  that  he  finds  separated 
in  nature  as  to  fulfil  the  principles  in  accordance  with 
which  they  are  also  combined  in  natural  products  when 
beautiful ;  that  is  to  say,  he  must  group  these  elements 
according  to  such  methods  that,  whether  appealing  to  the 
senses  or  to  the  mind,  or  to  both,  they  shall  seem  to  have 
effects  of  unity  notwithstanding  variety ;  in  other  words, 
shall  seem  to  be  a  result  of  putting  like  with  like,  not- 
withstanding the  presence  in  them  of  certain  features  that 
are  not  alike. 

For  a  similar  reason,  the  province  of  art  will  be  rec- 
ognized to  be  outside  the  range  of  anything  that  can  be 
accomplished  merely  by  expression.  It  involves  an 
expression  of  that  alone  which  accompanies  an  experi- 
ence of  like  effects  produced  upon  the  mind;  and,  not 
only  this,  but,  so  far  as  beauty  is  complete,  which  accom- 
panies another  combination  of  like  effects  produced  upon 
the  senses.  It  is  not  necessary,  to  dwell  here  upon  this 
fact,  nor,  to  those  at  all  acquainted  with  the  subject,  to 
enlarge  upon  its  importance.  **  How  it  is,"  says  James 
Sully  in  his  essay  "  On  the  Possibility  of  a  Science  of 
^Esthetics,"  "  that  proportion,  unity,  and  all  that  is  in- 
cluded under  beauty  of  form,  has  come  to  be  so  promi- 
nent an  ingredient  in  aesthetic  impression,  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  points  in  the  science."  It  is ;  and  in 
this  series  of  essays  the  basal  question  that  he  thus 
suggests  is  answered. 

Before  we  close  the  chapter,  mention,  perhaps,  should 


BEAUTY  DEFINED:    TASTE,  1 69 

be  made  of  taste^  a  term  in  common  use,  indicative  of  that 
within  the  mind  enabling  one  to  recognize  an  artistic 
effect,  and  to  judge  in  some  way  of  its  quality.  The 
term  originated  probably  in  an  adaptation  of  a  sensation 
experienced  through  one  of  the  lower  senses  to  that 
which  is  experienced  through  all  the  senses.  But  it  has 
come  now  to  be  equally  appropriate  for  effects  that  end 
in  none  of  these,  but  influence  especially  the  mind.  Pri- 
marily, again,  taste  indicates  2, passive  state;  but  second- 
arily, when  referring  even  to  the  lower  senses,  at  times,  an 
active.  A  cook  whose  taste  is  good  can  prepare  a  dish 
to  the  taste  of  others.  In  a  similar  way,  in  art  the  word 
may  indicate  a  man's  appreciation  and  also  his  applica- 
tion of  the  laws  of  beauty.  Once  more,  referring  to  the 
lower  senses,  men  are  said  to  have  a  natural  and  a  cul- 
tivated taste ;  and  the  same  is  true  with  reference  to  their 
attitude  toward  beauty. 

As  applied  to  the  whole  range  of  artistic  effects,  the 
relation  of  taste  to  the  aesthetic  nature  seems  to  be  pre- 
cisely that  of  conscience  to  the  moral  nature,  and  of  judg- 
ment to  the  intellectual.  Enlighten  a  man's  soul,  his 
conscience  will  prompt  to  better  actions ;  increase  his 
wisdom,  his  judgment  will  give  better  decisions.  Accord- 
ing to  the  same  analogy,  cultivate  his  aesthetic  nature,  i,  e.y 
improve  the  accuracy  of  his  ear  and  eye,  his  knowledge  of 
the  different  appearances  of  life,  and  modes  of  each  life, 
and  his  taste  will  be  cultivated  and  improved.  He  may 
never  reach  a  position  where  he  can  know  what  is  abso- 
lutely beautiful,  any  more  than  what  is  absolutely  right  or 
wise  ;  but  he  may  be  constantly  approaching  nearer  such  a 
knowledge.  Hence  the  fallacy  of  the  old  adage,  De  gusti- 
bus  non  est  disputandu77t,  and  the  importance  of  the  study 
now  engaging  our  attention. 


I70  ART  IN   THEORY, 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  add  here  also  that  just  as 
moral  or  intellectual  character  is  shown  by  the  way  in 
which  the  balance  is  maintained  between  conflicting  mate- 
rial and  spiritual  motives  appealing  to  the  conscience  or 
the  judgment,  so  artistic  character  is  shown  by  the  way  in 
which  the  balance  is  preserved  between  the  physiological 
and  psychological  requirements  of  art.  To  a  great  extent, 
as  has  been  shown,  the  former  requirement  follows  fixed 
natural  laws,  as  is  the  case,  in  fact,  with  everything  merely 
material ;  but  the  latter  requirement  depends  upon  the 
range  of  thought  and  feeling  characteristic  of  the  mind  of 
the  individual  artist  as  a  result  of  his  temperament  or  expe- 
rience. While  therefore  two  artists  may  equally  preserve 
the  balance  of  which  mention  has  just  been  made,  they 
can  never  do  it  in  exactly  the  same  way.  The  psycho- 
logical contribution,  in  each  case,  must  be  different.  It 
seems  to  be  mainly  for  this  reason  that  some  argue  that 
there  can  be  no  standard  of  taste.  But  the  same  kind  of 
logic  would  lead  one  to  conclude  that  there  can  be  no 
standard  of  right  for  conscience  or  judgment.  It  is  un- 
doubtedly a  fact  that  moral  and  intellectual  standards  are 
actually  accepted  to  an  extent  and  in  a  sense  that  is  not 
true  of  those  of  taste.  But  why  is  this  the  fact  ? — Why 
but  because  the  decisions  of  conscience  and  judgment 
lead  to  actions ;  and  actions  always  have  some  tendency 
to  become  injurious  to  others.  Therefore,  for  mutual 
protection,  men  have  agreed  to  accept  conventional  codes 
and  creeds,  and  to  abide  by  them.  Artistic  taste,  on  the 
contrary,  does  not,  as  a  rule,  lead  to  actions,  or  at  least 
not  directly  ;  and  accordingly  it  is  not  supposed  to  be 
injurious,  and  is  not  treated  as  such.  In  it  the  expression 
of  personality,  and  with  this  of  originality,  is  left  unfet- 
tered.    Spiritually  considered,  the  artist    is   almost   the 


BEAUTY  DEFINED  :    TASTE.  171 

only  freeman.  But  the  fact  that  he  is  this  is  due,  more 
than  to  anything  else,  to  the  lucky  accident  of  his  not 
happening  to  be  engaged  upon  that  which  has  a  direct 
practical,  utilitarian  bearing.  There  is  nothing  in  the  con- 
dition to  rid  him  of  the  obligation  to  endeavor,  at  least,  to 
discover  and  to  fulfil  certain  artistic  principles,  any  more 
than  the  fact  of  living  where  no  conventional  creeds  or 
codes  had  been  framed,  would  rid  one  of  the  obligation  to 
endeavor,  at  least,  to  discover  and  to  fulfil  the  principles 
of  truth  and  righteousness. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   DEFINITION     OF   BEAUTY    TESTED     BY     ITS   ACCORD 
WITH   THE   CONCEPTIONS   OF   OTHERS. 

How  the  Definition  of  Beauty  in  the  Last  Chapter  Accords  with  the  Theory 
Considering  Beauty  as  an  Effect,  Including  the  Conceptions  of  Shine 
and  Splendor — As  Harmony — One  in  the  Manifold,  or  Unity  in  Variety 
— Perfection — Utility — The  Good,  the  True — As  an  Effect  of  Asso- 
ciation— As  Symbolic — As  Identical  with  Life  or  Vital  Force — With 
Emotive  Force  or  Love — With  an  Appeal  to  the  Sympathies,  or  of 
Personality — Truth  of  these  Latter  Views,  as  also  of  the  Theory  of 
Association — The  Platonic  and  Aristotelian  Theories  again — Limita- 
tions of  each — Difficulty  of  Finding  a  Basis  of  Agreement  upon  which 
to  Reconcile  them— The  Method  Pursued  in  this  Discussion  will  do 
this — The  Play-Impulse  Tending  to  Imitation  Indicates  Effects  from 
Within  and  also  from  Without — Natural  Forms  Affecting  the  Mind 
Indicate  Effects  both  Formal  and  Mental — In  what  Regard  each  of  the 
Theories  is  True — Each  is  Defective  in  so  far  as  it  Excludes  the  Truth 
in  the  Other. 

A  DEFINITION  is  of  value  in  the  degree  in  which  it 
accords  with  the  undefined  conceptions  that  are  in 
the  minds  of  the  largest  number  of  thinkers  upon  the 
subject.  Let  us  observe,  for  a  little,  how  far  the  defini- 
tion of  beauty  given  in  the  preceding  chapter  will  meet  this 
test.  Starting  with  the  most  superficial  phases  of  agree- 
ment, perhaps  it  is  well  to  notice,  first,  that  the  term 
effects  as  used  in  the  definition  is  not  a  new  one.  It 
reminds  one  that,  among  others,  Sir  George  Stewart  Mac- 
kenzie, in  his  ''  Essay  on  Some  Subjects  Connected  with 
Taste,"  made  a  point  of  insisting  that  beauty  did  not 

172 


THE  DEFINITION  OF  BEAUTY  TESTED.  1 73 

reside  in  the  objects  of  nature  or  in  their  qualities,  but  in 
the  effects  that  they  produce.  The  term  reminds  one  too 
that  there  is  a  strong  resemblance  in  principle  though  not 
in  phraseology  between  this  conception  of  the  general 
nature  of  beauty  and  the  likening  of  it  by  J.  J.  Winckel- 
mann,  in  his  ''  Geschichte  der  Kunst  des  Alterthums,"  to 
an  essence  extracted  from  matter  by  fire ;  as  also  in  the 
application  to  it  by  E.  von  Hartmann,  in  his  '' Aesthetik," 
of  the  term  shine ;  as  well  as  by  the  Abbe  P.  Vallet,  in  his 
*'  L'Idee  du  Beau  dans  la  Philosophie  de  Saint  Thomas 
d'Aquin,"  of  the  term  splendor. 

The  conception  of  harmony,  too,  as  an  element  of 
beauty  has  been  emphasized,  and  this  very  frequently. 
For  instance,  James  Sully,  in  his  recent  "  Sensation  and 
Intuition,"  holds  that  harmony  of  the  pleasures  of  sense, 
intellect,  and  feeling  is  all  that  we  are  conscious  of  in  the 
apprehension  of  beauty.'  The  Dutch  C.  W.  Opzoomer, 
in  his  ''  Het  Wezen  der  Kennis,"  says  that  in  beauty  we 
must  have  harmony  of  the  whole  of  an  object  with  its 
different  parts,  and  also  harmony  between  the  form,  and 
the  thought  to  which  it  gives  expression  ;  and  the  Ger- 
man J.  Jungmann,  in  his  ''  Aesthetik,"  says  that  beauty  is 
the  actual  agreement  or  harmony  of  things  with  the 
rational  mind,  in  so  far  as  they  give  pleasure.  This  attri- 
buting of  beauty  to  harmony,  though  without  recognizing 
that  the  latter  is  due  to  *'  likeness  in  effects,"  is,  in  fact, 
very  common.  It  was  propounded  by  almost  the  first  of 
ancient  philosophers  of  whom  we  now  know,  Pythagoras, 
and  also  by  almost  the  first  of  modern  ones,  the  astron- 
omer Kepler,  in  his  "  Harmonices  Mundi."  Later  it  was 
emphasized  by  Leibnitz  as  necessarily  connected  with  the 
theory  of  pre-established  harmony  in  his  *'  Principes  de  la 
Nature  "  ;  by  Kant,  one  of  whose  tests  of  beauty,  as  given 

^  For  further  opinions  of  noclern  authorities,  sec  Appendix,  p.  245. 


174  ART  IN   THEORY. 

in  his  "  Kritik  der  Urtheilskraft,"  is  that  **  our  faculties 
work  harmoniously  with  reference  to  objects  characterized 
by  it  "  :  and  by  K.  J.  F.  Schnaase,  who,  in  his  *'  Geschichte 
der  bildenden  Kiinste,"  claims  that  the  work  of  art  is  to 
build  up  a  harmony  that  is  not  perceptible  in  nature. 
J.  van  Vloten  too,  in  his  "■  Nederlandsche  Aesthetik," 
places  the  same  stress  upon  harmony,  as  do  also  Lord 
Shaftesbury  in  his  "  Miscellaneous  Reflections,"  Henry 
Fuseli  in  the  "  Lectures  of  the  Royal  Academicians,** 
and  D.  R.  Hay  in  his  '*  Science  of  Beauty  as  Developed 
in  Nature  and  Applied  in  Art." 

Many  other  writers,  while  apparently  not  making  so 
much  of  harmony,  hold  virtually  the  same  view,  and,  in 
so  doing,  confirm  the  accuracy  of  our  definition  by  ascrib- 
ing beauty — often  only  vaguely  indicating  how  or  why 
they  do  it — to  a  manifestation  of  the  one  in  the  manifold, 
or,  as  it  is  usually  put,  of  unity  in  variety.  "  The  one 
true  aesthetic  principle  recognized  by  Hellenic  antiquity 
in  general,"  says  Bernard  Bosanquet,  in  his  recently  pub- 
lished and  suggestive  ''History  of  Esthetic,"  Chap.  ni,§ 
3,  ''  may  be  described  as  the  principle  that  beauty  consists 
in  the  imaginative  or  sensuous  expression  of  unity  in  vari- 
ety." This  opinion  is  maintained  in  systems  differing  as 
radically  in  other  regards  as  do  those  of  Plato,  Aristotle, 
Vitruvius,  and  Augustine  in  ancient  times,  and  in  modern 
times,  before  our  own  century,  as  those  of  the  Swiss  J.  P. 
de  Crousaz,  as  expounded  in  his  ''  Traite  du  Beau  "  ;  as 
those  of  the  English  Lord  Shaftesbury  in  his  "  Miscel- 
laneous Reflections  "  ;  of  Francis  Hutcheson  in  his  "  In- 
quiry into  the  Original  of  our  Ideas  of  Beauty  and  Vir- 
tue "  ;  of  William  Hogarth  in  his  *'  Analysis  of  Beauty  "  ; 
of  Alexander  Gerard  in  his  "  Essay  on  Taste  "  ;  of  William 
Shenstone  in  his  "  Essay  on  Taste  "  ;  of  Abraham  Tucker 


THE  DEFINITION  OF  BEAUTY  TESTED.  1 75 

in  his  "■  Light  of  Nature  Pursued  "  ;  as  those  of  the  Ger- 
man J.  G.  Sulzer  in  his  ''  Allgemeine  Theorie  der 
Schonen  Kunste  "  ;  of  F.  von  Schlegel  in  his  "  Aesthetik  "  ; 
and  as  those  of  the  Dutch  H.  van  Alphen  in  his  "  Theo- 
rie van  Schoone  Kunsten  en  Wetenschappen  " ;  also  in 
our  own  century  as  those  of  the  French  A.  C.  Quatre- 
mere  de  Quincy  in  his  *'  De  TUniversalite  du  Beau  et  de  la 
Mani^re  de  I'Entendre  "  ;  of  Victor  Cousin  in  his  "  Du  Vrai 
du  Bien  et  du  Beau  "  ;  of  G.  H.  de  Coster  in  his  ''  Elements 
de  l'Esth6tique  G^nerale  "  ;  of  the  Abb6  P.  Vallet  in  his 
"  L'Idee  du  Beau,"  etc. ;  as  those  of  the  German  Moritz 
Carriere  in  his  ''Aesthetik"  ;  of  K.  C.  F.  Krause  in  his 
"  System  der  Aesthetik,"  etc. ;  and  as  those  of  the  Eng- 
lish S.  T.  Coleridge  in  his  "  Biographia  Literaria  "  ;  of  J. 
G.  Mac  Vicar  in  his  essay  "  On  the  Beautiful,  the  Pictu- 
resque, and  the  Sublime  "  ;  of  W.  B.  Scott  in  his  "  Half- 
Hour  Lectures  on  the  History  and  Practice  of  the  Fine 
and  Ornamental  Arts " ;  and  of  Sidney  Dobell  in  his 
'*  Thoughts  on  Art,  Philosophy,  and  Religion." 

For  other  reasons,  the  definition  that  has  been  given, 
seems  also  to  meet  the  requirements  of  those  who  term 
beauty  perfection,  as  was  done  by  Baumgarten  in  his 
'*  Aesthetica,"  and  by  his  pupil  Friedrich  Meier  in  his 
*' Anfangsgriinde  der  Schonen  Wissenschaften,"  and  later 
by  J.  G.  Sulzer  in  his  "  Allgemeine  Theorie  der  Schonen 
Kunste."  As  all  of  these  accept  also  the  necessity  of 
harmony,  i.  e.,  of  unity  and  variety,  they  evidently  mean 
by  perfection  such  effects  as  cause  external  appearances 
to  conform  themselves  to  ideals,  or,  in  other  words,  cause 
appearances  to  have  hke  effects  to  those  excited  by  the 
forms  conjured  by  one's  own  imagination.  Granting 
that  the  springs  of  imagination  are  under  the  influence 
of  a  spiritual  and  divine  source  of  perfection,  anything 


1/6  ART  IN   THEORY. 

external  can  be  recognized  as  having  spiritual  effects  in 
the  degree  only  in  which  it  in  itself  is  perfect. 

More  nearly  connected  with  the  conception  of  perfec- 
tion than  appears  upon  the  surface,  are  the  views  of  those 
who  maintain,  as  does  Alexander  Gerard,  in  his  "■  Essay 
on  Taste,"  that  at  least  one  element  of  beauty  is  "  utility, 
or  the  fitness  of  things  for  answering  their  ends," — a  view 
that  is  also  advocated  by  Lord  Kames  in  his  "  Elements 
of  Criticism,"  by  James  Beattie  in  his  ''  Dissertations,"  etc. 
by  Sir  William  Hamilton  in  his  "  Lectures  on  Metaphys- 
ics," in  which  he  speaks  of  relative  beauty  as  being  '*  a 
beauty  utilized,"  or  a  "  utilized  beauty,"  and  by  James 
Fergusson  in  his  ''  History  of  Architecture,"  in  which  he 
refers  to  one  phase  of  art  as  being  that  which  is  *'  beauti- 
fully fitted  for  its  purpose."  All  these  statements  are 
more  in  apparent  than  in  real  antagonism  to  what  is  said 
in  Chapter  VH.  of  the  present  work  with  reference  to  an 
absence  in  art  of  an  aim  of  material  utility.  Probably 
each  of  these  writers  would  agree  with  A.  W.  Holmes- 
Forbes,  who,  in  Chapters  IV.  and  V.  of  his  "  Science  of 
Beauty,"  both  headed  ''  Beauty  attaches  only  to  utility," 
shows  that  he  means  to  include  in  the  conception  of  the 
adaptability^  of  a  form  to  its  ends,  its  ability  to  give  exact 
expression  to  certain  thoughts  and  feelings ;  which  is  the 
same  as  saying — what  is  amply  expressed  in  the  definition 
that  has  been  given — that  both  the  form  and  the  thought 
or  feeling  should  have  like  effects. 

There  is  no  radical  difference  between  perfection  and 
the  good,  or  between  the  fitting  and  the  true.  For  this 
reason,  through  the  same  line  of  thought  already  pursued, 
an  agreement  can  also  be  perceived  between  our  defi- 
nition and  the  theory  of  those  who  identify  the  beautiful 
with  the  good,  as  in  our  own  times  John  Ruskin  has  done 

'  Which  is  a  better  term  than  utility  for  this  general  conception. 


THE  DEFINITION  OF  BEAUTY  TESTED.  1 77 

over  and  over  again  in  his  ''  Modern  Painters  "  and  other 
works,  and  also  Professor  G.  T.  Ladd  in  his  **  Introduc- 
tion to  Philosophy."  The  same  can  be  said  too  of  the 
theory  identifying  it  with  the  true,  a  theory  especially 
emphasized  by  F.  von  Schlegel  in  his  "Aesthetik,"  by 
Nicolas  Boileau-Despr^aux  in  his  poem  on  "  L'Art 
Poetique,"  and  by  our  American  Professor  Joseph 
Torrey    in  his  ''  Theory  of  Fine  Art." 

The  assignment  of  beauty  in  the  definition  to  like  ef- 
fects produced  not  only  upon  the  emotive  organs  of  sen- 
sation in  the  ear  or  eye,  but  also  upon  the  emotive  sources 
of  imagination  in  the  mind,  evidently  fits  it  to  meet  the 
requirements  of  those,  too,  who  like  Archibald  Alison  in 
his  "  Essay  on  the  Nature  and  Principles  of  Taste,"  Lord 
Jeffrey  in  his  "  Essay  on  Beauty,"  and  Dr.  Thomas  Brown 
in  his  *'  Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind," 
ascribe  it  to  association.  To  what  can  beauty  springing 
from  association  be  due,  if  not  to  likeness  in  the  effects 
of  forms  as  they  appeal  to  the  eye  or  ear,  and  as  they  are 
conjured  from  memory  by  the  imagination  ? 

For  a  similar  reason,  the  same  can  be  affirmed  of  the 
fitness  of  this  definition  to  meet  the  requirements  of  those 
who  dwell  much  upon  the  symbolic  character  of  art,  like 
U.  W.  F.  Solger,  who,  in  his  "  Vorlesungen  iiber  Aesthe- 
tik,"  declares  it  to  be  all  symbolic,  ancient  art  objectively 
so,  and  modern  art  subjectively  so  ;  or  like  Thomas 
Carlyle,  who  has  a  whole  chapter  on  "  Symbols  "  in  his 
**  Sartor  Resartus."  The  same  view  is  really  held  also, 
to  some  extent,  by  all  who  insist  that  the  connection  in 
art  between  the  particular  thoughts  and  feelings  to  be 
expressed  and  the  form  used  in  the  expression  of  them  is 
in  any  sense  a  necessary  one — a  view,  in  fact,  which  is 
maintained  in  the  essays  of  this  series  entitled  ''  Poetry  as 


1/8  ART  IN    THEORY. 

a  Representative  Art,"  **  Music  as  a  Representative  Art," 
and  "  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture  as  Represent- 
ative Arts." 

Again,  the  attributing  of  beauty  in  all  cases  to  effects 
enables  the  definition  to  meet  the  requirements  of  those 
who  identify  beauty  with  life,  vital  force,  or  expressions 
of  either,  as  is  done  by  Hegel  in  his  **  Aesthetik  ;  by  J.  M. 
Guyau,  who,  in  his  '*  Les  Problemes  de  I'Esth^tique  Con- 
temporaine,"  evidently  comes  very  near  to  our  definition 
in  saying  that  beauty  is  "■  either  a  perception  or  an  action 
that  stimulates  our  life,  whether  through  the  senses,  the 
intellect,  or  the  will  "  ;  by  J.  van  Vloten,  who,  in  his 
'*  Nederlandsche  Aesthetik,"  says  that  all  beauty  is  "  life 
in  a  harmonious  form" ;  by  Vincenzo  Gioberti,  who,  in 
his  "  Trattato  del  Bello,"  ascribes  it,  as  manifested  in 
nature,  to  the  "  creative  force  ";  and  by  John  Bascom,  who, 
in  his  ''  Esthetics  or  Science  of  Beauty,"  ascribes  it  in 
nature  "  to  the  presence  of  the  vital  force." 

Very  closely  allied  to  this  view,  is  that  of  those  who 
attribute  it  to  "  emotive  force,"  like  H.  Quilter,  who,  in 
his  *'  Sententiae  Artis,"  says  that  art  is  the  expression  of 
life  with  all  its  varying  emotions  ;  from  which  there  is  but 
one  step,  perhaps,  to  the  opinion  of  Erasmus  Darwin  in 
his  "  Zoonomia  or  the  Laws  of  Organic  Life,"  as  well  as 
of  Charles  Darwin,  also,  in  his  "  Descent  of  Man,"  that 
the  characteristic  of  beauty  is  that  it  is  an  object  of  love  ; 
a  view  also  expressed  by  John  Todhunter  in  a  lecture  on 
the  "Theory  of  the  Beautiful,"  and  carried  to  almost  a 
grotesque  extreme  in  a  book  upon  **  Robert  Burns,"  by 
Samuel  Tyler,  who  declares  that  the  beautiful  is  whatever 
in  the  material  world  produces  impressions  analogous  to 
those  awakened  in  us  by  our  associations  with  woman. 
Th(^odore   Jouffroy  expresses   a   similar   principle  more 


THE  DEFINITION  OF  BEAUTY   TESTED.  1 79 

broadly,  by  saying  in  his  "  Cours  d'Esth^tique  "  that  in 
proportion  as  objects  appealing  to  perception  resemble 
man  (including,  of  course,  woman ! ),  or  in  so  far 
as  they  mirror  our  humanity,  they  are  deemed  beautiful. 
A  like  recognition  of  some  general  effect  produced  by 
beauty  upon  the  sympathetic  nature  undoubtedly  under- 
lies the  insistence  by  Hegel  in  his  "■  Aesthetik,"  as  well  as 
by  F.  T.  Vischer  in  his  work  on  the  same  subject,  that 
\\\^  personality  of  the  artist  must  exert  an  apparent  influ- 
ence in  the  transference  of  natural  to  artistic  beauty.  It 
underlies  too  the  representation  of  personality  used  as  a 
fundamental  principle  for  a  whole  system  by  Eugene 
Veron  in  his  *'  L'Esthetique."  As  pointed  out  at  the  end 
of  Chapter  XIV,,  the  definition  that  has  been  given,  by 
ascribing  the  effects  of  beauty  to  the  operation  not  only 
of  fixed  physiological  laws,  but  also  of  those  that  are 
psychological,  and  which  are  therefore  dependent  upon 
the  range  of  thought  and  feeling  in  the  mind  of  the 
individual  artist  as  a  result  of  his  temperament  and  expe- 
rience, leaves  ample  play  for  the  expression  of  personality, 
— indeed  necessitates  it. 

On  the  whole,  however,  this  fact  that  men  attribute 
beauty  to  that  which  makes  an  appeal  to  the  sympathies, 
has  not  been  sufficiently  emphasized.  Yet  nine  people 
out  of  ten,  especially  among  those  not  educated  in  partic- 
ular schools  of  art,  whose  minds  therefore  act  according 
to  first  principles  rather  than  according  to  derived  ones, 
in  reading  poetry,  in  looking  at  pictures,  or  in  enter- 
ing houses,  judge  of  their  beauty  precisely  as  the  poet 
Coleridge  said  that  he  did  of  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible 
— namely,  by  the  feeling  that  it  found  him.  In  this  fact 
with  reference  to  the  influence  of  art,  lies  the  degree  of 
truth  that  there  is,  when  not  made  universally  applicable, 


l80  ART  IN   THEORY. 

in  the  theory  of  "  association."  We  all  take  delight  in 
songs  and  choruses  like  those  of  which  we  have  pleasant 
reminiscences  ;  in  passages  of  poetry  that  express  thoughts 
or  feelings  like  those  to  which  we  have  been  led  by  our 
own  experiences ;  in  landscapes  like  those  by  which  we 
have  been  surrounded  in  hours  of  pleasure  ;  in  figures 
like  those  which  we  have  loved  or  should  wish  to  love 
could  we  only  find  them  ;  in  buildings  like  those  which 
we  have  possessed  or  should  like  to  possess  as  homes.  In 
all  these  cases,  with  a  possibility  of  a  breadth  of  applica- 
bility in  other  directions  not  possible  to  the  theory  of 
association,  as  held  exclusively,  the  principle  of  ascribing 
beauty  to  the  influence  of  like  effects  exerted  by  the 
forms  from  without  and  by  those  conjured  by  the  imagi- 
nation within,  covers  all  the  facts.  But  notice,  too,  that 
among  these  like  effects,  in  cases  where  beauty  emanates 
from  a  work  of  art,  are  included  not  merely  effects  traceable 
to  the  thought,  feeHngs,  will,  in  short  the  whole  character 
of  the  artist,  all  of  which  have  been  manifested  by  him 
in  his  art-form,  but  also  effects  conjured  by  the  imagina- 
tion from  the  thought,  feelings,  will,  in  short  the  whole 
character,  of  the  one  to  whom  the  beauty  appeals. 

Before  drawing  to  a  close  this  discussion  concerning 
beauty,  it  may  prove  interesting  to  return  to  our  starting- 
point  in  the  two  general  theories  termed  respectively 
Aristotelian  and  Platonic,  and  show  the  exact  bearing 
upon  each  of  them  of  what  has  been  said.  The  different 
tendencies  of  these  theories,  as  better  stated  by  E.  von 
Hartmann  in  his  *'  Philosophy  of  the  Unconscious  "  (as 
translated  by  W.  L.  Coupland)  than  by  E.  S.  Dallas  in 
**  The  Gay  Science,"  as  quoted  on  page  34,  is  as  follows  : 
"  One  party,  taking  its  rise  from  Plato,  relies  on  this,  that 
in  Art  the  human  mind  transcends  the  beauty  revealed  in 


THE  DEFINITION'  OF  BEAUTY  TESTED.  l8l 

nature,  and  hold  this  to  be  impossible,  unless  there 
indwell  in  the  soul  an  idea  of  the  beautiful,  a  certain 
aspect  of  which  is  termed  an  ideal,  and  which  serves  as  a 
criterion  of  what  is  and  is  not  beautiful  in  nature,  so  that 
the  aesthetic  judgment  is  a  priori  and  synthetic.  The 
other  party  points  out  that  in  those  creations  of  art  which 
approximate  most  closely  to  the  alleged  ideals  there  are 
contained  no  elements  which  nature  herself  does  not  offer 
to  the  view ;  that  the  idealizing  activity  of  the  artist  only 
consists  in  an  elimination  of  the  ugly,  and  in  the  collect 
ing  and  combining  of  those  elements  of  beauty  which 
nature  exhibits  apart,  and  that  aesthetic  science  has  in 
its  progress  more  and  more  demonstrated  the  psycho- 
genesis  of  the  aesthetic  judgment  from  given  psychological 
and  physiological  conditions,  so  that  we  may  confidently 
expect  a  complete  illumination  of  this  province  and 
its  purification  from  all  a  priori  and  supernatural  con- 
ceptions." 

These  words  of  von  Hartmann  have  been  quoted  mainly 
because  of  the  clear  language  in  which  he  states  the 
opinions  of  the  two  opposing  schools.  In  the  light  of 
what  has  been  said  here,  the  reader  will  notice  that  the 
arguments  of  neither  school  are  in  themselves  pre- 
eminently convincing.  The  mere  fact  that  the  beauty  of 
effect  in  orchestras  or  dramas  transcends  that  of  the  songs 
of  birds  or  the  talk  of  counting-rooms,  is  no  more  proof 
of  the  existence  of  a  typical  form  in  the  mind  of  man,  or 
of  God  behind  the  phenomena  of  nature,  than  is  the  fact 
that  the  power  of  the  steam-engine  and  the  dynamo 
transcends  that  of  the  cloud  and  lightning.  If  the 
apparatus  used  for  steam  and  for  electricity  be  developed 
in  a  natural  way  from  man's  mental  powers,  the  same  may 
be  true  of  the  forms  that  are  used  in  art.     But,  on  the 


1 82  ART  IN  THEORY. 

other  hand,  the  mere  fact  that  orchestras  and  dramas 
have  a  general  resemblance  to  natural  music  and  to  con- 
versation is  not,  any  more  than  the  fact  that  the  steam- 
engine  and  the  dynamo  are  adaptations  of  natural  forces, 
a  proof  that  man  is  destitute  of  intuitional  powers,  spirit- 
born,  and  God-given. 

The  truth  is  that  extreme  materialists  will  always  hold 
that  everything  in  thought  is  a  result  of  sensations  ex- 
cited from  without,  and  that  therefore  even  an  ideal  or 
typical  form  is  a  concept  resulting  from  a  development 
of  experience,  and  traceable  ultimately  to  appearances  in 
nature ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  extreme  idealists  will  al- 
ways hold  that  the  ideal  or  typical  form  is  in  the  soul,  and 
that  therefore  the  recognition  in  external  forms  of  some- 
thing approximating  this  is  that  which  causes  them  to  be 
beautiful.  For  this  reason,  probably,  any  one  attempting 
to  dispute  either  position  with  an  advocate  of  either 
theory  will  be  unable  to  answer  this  advocate's  objections, 
unless  able,  first,  to  change  his  premise. 

One  peculiarity  of  the  method  adopted  in  this  volume, 
is  that  the  definition  reached  can  be  accepted  by  adherents 
of  both  schools ;  and  this,  for  the  reason  that  the  subject 
is  approached  from  the  practical  side,  leaving  each  one 
free  to  attach  to  it  whichever  theory  most  commends 
itself  to  him.  In  order  to  recognize  this,  notice  to  what 
an  extent  the  existence  of  a  degree  of  truth  in  the 
theories  of  both  materialists  and  idealists  is  indicated 
by  the  line  of  thought  that  has  just  been  brought  to 
a  close.  Going  back  to  what  was  said  on  page  75  of 
the  play-impulse  or  the  art-impulse,  which  is  distinctively 
manifested,  as  explained  there,  in  an  excess  of  psychical 
or  spiritual  life,  let  us  observe  more  carefully  than  was 
then    done   the   sources   of   the   manifestations    of   this 


THE  DEFINITION  OF  BEAUTY   TESTED,  1 83 

excess,  which,  of  course,  will  be  the  same  thing  as  to 
trace  the  sources  of  beauty ;  for  it  is  in  beauty  that  the 
manifestations  culminate.  Where,  then,  are  the  sources 
of  this?  Are  they  wholly  in  the  mind,  the  soul,  the 
spiritual  being  of  the  subject  of  it?  If  so,  why  does  the 
impulse  characteristically  express  itself,  as  shown  on 
page  73,  in  imitation  ?  It  certainly  would  not  do  this 
were  it  not  under  the  influence  of  natural  appearances 
that  could  be  imitated.  Yet  again,  would  any  number  of 
natural  appearances  that  could  be  imitated  account  for 
the  excess  of  vitality  carrying  on  the  imitation  ?  Must 
not  this  vitality  come  from  within  ?  It  certainly  seems 
so.  Yet  if  it  be  so  indeed,  we  have  clearly  indicated 
effects  both  from  without  and  from  within. 

But  again,  are  the  effects  that  come  from  nature  trace- 
able to  the  forms  in  themselves,  or  to  causes  behind  the 
forms  ?  Hardly  to  the  forms  in  themselves,  because, 
practically  considered,  as  has  been  shown,  neither  music, 
poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  nor  architecture  involves  an  ex- 
act imitation  of  forms.  At  best,  art  merely  reproduces, 
as  will  be  brought  out  in  Chapter  XVI.,  their  effects  ;  and 
again,  because,  theoretically  considered,  in  reproducing 
effects,  a  stream  cannot  rise  higher  than  its  source.  How 
can  powerful  influences  such  as,  presumably,  stir  thought 
or  feeling  in  the  presence  of  beauty,  owe  their  origin  to 
forms  that  have  no  force  of  any  kind — at  any  rate,  no 
mental  or  spiritual  force  behind  them  ? 

If  now,  as  we  bear  in  mind  these  conceptions  of  the 
exact  conditions  accompanying  beauty,  the  so-termed 
Aristotelian  tell  us  that  all  art  not  merely  employs  the 
method  of  imitation,  which  is  all  that  Aristotle  himself 
claimed  or  meant,  but  that  it  owes  its  origin  to  the  imita- 
tion, direct  or  indirect,  of  the  forms  of  nature,  we  can 


1 84  ART  IN    THEORY. 

accept  his  statement,  provided  he  include  in  his  con- 
ception of  the  forms  of  nature  their  psychic  effects  upon 
the  artist's  psychic  nature,  which  he  embodies  as  psychic 
influences  in  the  art  that  he  produces.  And  if  the  so- 
termed  Platonist  tell  us  that  all  art — and  not  merely 
beauty,  the  most  legitimate  subject  of  art,  which  is  all  to 
which  Plato  himself  meant  to  refer — has  its  origin  in  the 
expression  of  an  idea,  existing  as  an  absolute  spiritual 
essence  behind  the  forms  of  nature,  which,  wherever  it  is 
expressed,  is  intuitively  recognized  by  the  mind,  we  can 
accept  his  statement,  provided  he  include  in  his  concep- 
tion of  the  idea  expressed  the  physical  effects  of  the  ex- 
pressional  form  upon  the  artist's  physical  nature,  which  he 
embodies  as  physical  influences  in  the  art  that  he 
produces. 

We  can  hold,  therefore,  that  the  theories  called  Aristo- 
telian and  Platonic  are  alike  in  principle,  so  far  as  both 
necessitate,  as  it  has  been  shown  in  this  essay  that  they 
should  do,  the  attributing  of  beauty  to  effects,  and  of 
works  of  art  to  the  reproduction  of  these  effects.  But 
we  must  hold  also  that,  inasmuch  as  the  former  theory 
emphasizes  only  the  effects  of  nature  as  operating  upon 
the  mind,  and  the  latter  theory  the  effects  of  mind  as 
operating  upon  nature,  the  truth  underlying  both  theories 
is  needed  before  we  can  have  a  full  conception  of  all  the 
sources  of  beauty.  This  in  its  completeness,  as  was 
stated  on  page  56  of  Chapter  V.,  is  always  a  result  of  the 
reciprocal  effects  of  nature  upon  the  mind,  and  of  the 
mind  upon  nature. 

As  all  possible  art  theories  are  often  traced,  as  on  page 
180,  either  to  Plato  or  to  Aristotle,  an  account  of  the 
theory  of  each,  respectively,  has  been  attempted  in  Ap- 
pendix II.,  page  249,  and  in  the  following  Appendix  III. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

REPRESENTATION    IN    ART    AS    DEVELOPED    BY   MENTAL 
CONDITIONS  ;    CONSIDERED   HISTORICALLY. 

Introduction — Effects  of  Appearances  upon  the  Mind  are  Inclusive  both  of 
Forms  and  of  Principles  of  Formation — And  are  Produced  both  upon 
the  Senses  and  upon  the  Thoughts  and  Feelings — The  Three  Insepar- 
able Objects  of  Consideration  in  the  Present  Inquiry — Order  of  Devel- 
opment in  the  Modes  of  Expression — As  Surmised  from  Prehistoric 
Records  Rationally  Interpreted — As  Shown  from  Historic  Records 
— In  the  Lives  of  Individuals  among  Animals — Among  Men — Also  in 
the  Influence  upon  Expression  of  Some  One  Event  or  Series  of  Events 
in  the  Individual's  Experience — Physical  Thrill,  and  Vocal  Expression 
Leading  to  Music — Definite  Opinions,  and  Verbal  Expression  Leading 
to  Poetry — Conflicting  Opinions  Leading  to  Oratory — Contemplation 
of  Facts  as  they  Appear  Leading  to  Painting  and  Sculpture — Planning 
and  Re-arranging  Leading  to  Architecture. 

np HE  discussion  of  the  nature  of  beauty  which  has  just 
been  brought  to  a  close  was  necessitated  by  an 
attempt  to  show  how  effects  upon  the  mind  are  repre- 
sented in  circumstances  in  which  they  are  chiefly  con- 
sidered as  coming  from  natural  appearances.  We  have 
still  to  discuss,  in  accordance  with  the  intention  stated  on 
page  64,  how  effects  of  natural  appearances  are  repre- 
sented in  circumstances  in  which  they  are  chiefly  empha- 
sized as  being  exerted  upon  or  within  the  mind. 

It  is  best  to  begin  our  treatment  of  this  part  of  our 
subject  by  observing  that  the  effects  thus  produced  upon 
the  mind  are  not  confined  to  those  attributable  to  mere 
forms  as  forms.     The  mind,  in  accordance  with  vvhat  has 

185 


1 86  ART  IN   THEORY. 

been  indicated  in  Chapter  VIII.,  is  inflitenced  by  the  gen- 
eral principles  also  upon  which  in  nature  the  forms  per- 
ceived are  conditioned.  As  W.  W.  Story  observes  in  the 
article  mentioned  once  before,  entitled  **  Recent  Conver- 
sations in  a  Studio,"  and  published  in  ^'  Blackwood's  Maga- 
zine "  :  *'  Nature  is  not  an  aggregation  of  facts — it  is  an  idea 
in  the  mind  derived  from  a  long  series  of  varying  impres- 
sions and  experiences.  When  we  say  a  work  of  art  is 
natural,  it  is  because  it  answers  to  this  ideal,  not  because 
it  is  true  to  some  particular  fact.'*  We  have  noticed  that 
nature  does  not  furnish  complete  models  for  art  to  copy 
accurately — no  symphonies,  poems,  cathedrals  ;  not  even 
paintings  or  statues.  It  furnishes  merely  certain  potential 
elements  of  artistic  form,  which  art  selects,  separates  from 
former  connections,  and  combines  anew.  No  one  can 
make  products  thus  brought  together  appear  natural — 
make  them  really  represent  what  has  been  observed  in  the 
external  world,  unless  he  understands,  and,  because  of 
understanding,  is  able  to  apply  the  principles  which  in 
nature  condition  the  arrangements  of  these  same  elements. 
Nor  are  the  effects  of  nature  upon  the  mind  confined 
to  those  exerted  upon  the  senses ;  i.  e.,  to  any  exact 
sounds,  or  images,  or  any  influences  immediately  asso- 
ciated with  these  as  they  have  been  impressed  upon  the 
organs  of  the  ears  or  eyes,  and  transformed  from  them 
to  it.  The  mind  itself  is  a  source  of  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings. These  are  constantly  at  work,  and  the  influence 
of  them  may  often  change  completely  the  specific  form  in 
which  an  effect  has  come  from  nature.  This  is  a  fact,  a 
discussion  of  which  would  have  greatly  enhanced  the  value 
of  Lessing's  celebrated  criticism  upon  the  "  Laocoon." 
What  is  involved  in  the  fact  may  be  made  clear  by  an 
illustration.     Suppose  a  man  to  have  listened  to  the  story 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.        1 8/ 

of  a  battle.  It  might  be  presumed  that  a  representation 
of  what  he  has  heard  would  also  assume  the  form  of  a 
story,  and  therefore  be  artistically  expressed  in  a  poem. 
But  often  the  effect  of  the  story  upon  his  imagination,  as 
also  of  his  imagination  upon  it,  is  such  that  what  is  ex- 
perienced can  be  represented  truthfully  only  through  a 
picture.  Again,  it  happens  sometimes  that  the  forms 
through  which  the  effects  have  been  exerted,  have  lin- 
gered so  long  in  his  mind,  and  experienced  so  many 
modifications  there  that,  though  critical  analysis  may 
detect,  as  in  architecture  and  music,  that  the  effects  pro- 
duced have  been  suggested  by  forms  in  nature,  the  artist 
himself  is  unconscious  of  what  these  forms  were. 

In  our  present  discussion,  the  three  elements  thus  indi- 
rectly indicated  as  entering  into  what  may  be  termed  the 
effects  of  nature  upon  the  mind — namely,  natural  appear- 
ances, the  thoughts  and  feelings  awakened  by  them,  and 
the  combined  results  in  the  art-product  both  of  natural 
appearances  and  of  the  awakened  thoughts  and  feelings 
— cannot  well  be  separated.  For  our  purpose,  each  is  of 
interest  so  far  only  as  it  may  be  connected  with  the  other 
two.  Any  given  effect  important  to  notice  as  springing 
from  forms  of  nature  would  better,  therefore,  be  traced  at 
once  through  the  mind  and  into  the  form  of  expression 
by  means  of  which  the  mind  represents  it. 

Pursuing  this  course,  let  us  notice,  as  preparatory  to 
interpreting  the  phases  of  thought  represented  in  each 
art,  the  order  of  the  methods  of  expression  natural  to  the 
mind  at  different  stages  of  the  development  of  any  in- 
fluence exerted  from  without ;  and  that  we  may  start 
where  these  methods  seem  most  unmistakably  indicated, 
let  us  go  back  to  the  earliest  modes  of  representation 
resembling  those  of  art  that  we  can  detect  in  human  ex- 


1 88  ART  IN  THEORY, 

pression.  To  ascertain  these,  we  naturally  turn  first 
to  what  is  called  history,  by  which  is  meant  the  story 
of  the  experiences  of  life  as  shown  in  that  of  each  of 
its  different  races.  We  ask  what  does  history  teach  with 
reference  to  the  order  of  the  development  of  forms  of  ex- 
pression? Men  are  born  into  the  world  surrounded  by 
certain  natural  influences,  all  of  which,  so  far  as  concerns 
effects  that  influence  production  in  art,  may  be  divided, 
as  has  been  stated  before,  into  those  of  sound  and  of 
sight.  Which  of  these  exerts  the  earliest  effect  upon  ex- 
pression, and  what  is  the  form  of  this  expression  ?  If  we 
are  to  derive  an  answer  from  actual  records,  it  will  have 
to  be  confessed,  at  once,  that  the  most  primitive  of  these 
seems  to  controvert  rather  than  to  confirm  the  theory 
which  accords  with  that  which  is  to  be  presented  in  this 
volume.  As  a  fact,  the  most  ancient  forms  in  existence 
which  resemble  those  of  art  are  rude  carvings  on  bone, 
produced  in  the  Madeleine  period  of  the  early  Stone 
age,  representing  the  outlines  of  the  mammoth,  cave  bear, 
reindeer,  ibex,  saiga,  fish,  calves'  heads,  horses,  and  men. 
See  *'  Mus^e  Pr^historique,"  par  Gabriel  et  Adam  De 
Mortillet,  pi.  xxviii.,  etc.  So  much  for  the  records.  But, 
in  a  case  like  this,  have  we  not  a  right  to  appeal  from  the 
records  to  reason  ?  These  figures  are  found  carved  on 
implements — some  of  them  implements  of  war.  Is  it 
conceivable  that  those  who  carried  them  did  not  have, 
and  had  not  had,  before  they  employed  them  vocal  forms 
of  expression,  like  cries  and  speech,  allied  to  music  and 
poetry  as  these  are  to  painting  and  sculpture  ? 

But  besides  appealing  to  reason,  we  can  appeal  to  later 
records.  When  we  leave  the  prehistoric  period,  and 
reach  one  where  we  can  obtain  a  measurably  comprehen- 
sive view  of  all  the  facts,  there  seems  to  be  no  difficulty 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL    CONDITIONS.        1 89 

in  showing  that,  as  among  the  aboriginal  Americans  and 
Africans  of  to-day,  the  earliest  forms  offering  any  satis- 
factory resemblance  to  representative  art  are  certain  rude 
chants,  which,  in  some  cases,  have  all  the  characteristics 
of  successful  melodies.  Nevertheless  it  needs  to  be 
acknowledged  that,  beyond  the  production  of  these  melo- 
dies, music  does  not  progress  until  a  very  late  period.  It 
can  only  be  said  therefore  that  the  embryonic  condi- 
tions of  music  develop  early.  In  connection  with  them, 
however,  and  largely  because  of  them,  language,  which 
itself,  in  its  earlier  stages,  is  always  poetic,  passes  from  its 
primitive  condition  into  forms  not  only  of  oratory  but  of 
verse,  which,  as  among  the  Hebrews,  Greeks,  Persians, 
Hindoos,  Teutons,  etc.,  is  usually  brought  to  a  high 
degree  of  perfection  long  before  any  of  the  arts  of  sight. 
Almost  unexceptionable  specimens  of  musical  melody — 
not  harmony — and  poetry  are  produced  in  very  primitive 
stages  of  civiHzation.  Painting,  sculpture,  and  architec- 
ture, in  anything  like  faultless  form,  always  appear  later. 
Nevertheless,  very  early,  but  subsequent  to  the  first  at- 
tempts at  expression  through  the  use  of  sounds,  we  find 
men  trying  to  draw  pictures,  and,  as  suggested  in  connec- 
tion with  these,  to  record  experiences  in  methods  which 
lead,  after  a  while,  to  the  use  of  hieroglyphics  and  to  the 
full  development  of  arts  like  painting  and  sculpture.  Only 
later  than  the  attainment  of  excellence  in  these,  do  we,  as 
a  rule,  find  the  more  complicated  manifestations  of  taste 
and  skill  in  the  same  general  direction  applied  to  house- 
building to  such  a  degree  as  to  lift  it  into  the  sphere  of 
the  art  of  architecture.  Of  course,  the  human  being  puts 
up  certain  kinds  of  huts  earlier  than  he  draws  pictures. 
He  is  obliged  to  do  so  in  order  to  provide  means  of  shel- 
ter.    But  he  is  not  influenced   to  construct  his  huts  in 


1 90  ART  IN    THEORY. 

such  a  way  as  to  give  expression  to  his  thoughts  and 
feelings,  which  is  essential  for  an  artistic  effect,  as  early 
as  he  is  influenced  to  draw  pictures  for  the  same  purpose. 
A  boy,  or  a  boy-like  savage,  using  a  pencil  or  anything  else, 
will  enjoy  expressing  his  thoughts  and  feelings  by  way  of 
imitation  for  its  own  sake,  long  before  he  will  enjoy  do- 
ing the  same  for  the  sake  of  ornamenting  what  would  be 
just  as  useful  without  ornamentation.  In  the  former 
case,  his  mind  begins  by  being  at  play  ;  in  the  latter,  by 
being  at  work ;  and  its  first  desire  always  is  to  be  rid  of 
work. 

This  last  illustration  suggests  that  to  learn  about  the 
order  of  the  development  of  the  modes  of  expression  nat- 
ural to  the  different  arts,  we  need  not  confine  ourselves 
to  what  can  be  obtained  from  history  in  the  sense  in 
which  that  term  is  most  used.  We  can  learn  something 
from  the  lives  of  individuals  as  well  as  of  races.  Here 
we  can  begin,  too,  lower  down  than  with  individuals  of 
the  human  species.  The  ears  for  appreciation  as  well  as 
the  throats  for  expression  in  pups  and  kittens  are  always 
opened  before  their  eyes,  to  say  nothing  of  their  claws ; 
and  while  few,  if  any,  animals  have  ever  been  known  to 
appreciate  painting,  Shakespeare  says  : 

"  For  do  but  note  a  wild  and  wanton  herd, 
Or  race  of  youthful  and  unhandled  colts, 
Fetching  mad  bounds,  bellowing  and  neighing  loud, 
Which  is  the  hot  condition  of  their  blood. 
If  they  but  hear,  perchance,  a  trumpet  sound, 
Or  any  air  of  music  touch  their  ears. 
You  shall  perceive  them  make  a  mutual  stand. 
Their  savage  eyes  turned  to  a  modest  gaze 
By  the  sweet  power  of  music." 

— Merchant  of  Venice,  v.,  i.  :   Shakespeare, 

Passing  up  to  the  human  species,  we  find  in  it  the  same 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.        I9I 

capacities  developed  in  exactly  the  same  order.  The  first 
mental  influence  that  a  babe  can  appreciate  is  his  nurse's 
lullaby ;  and  the  first  thing  that  he  does  at  birth,  when 
he  comes  into  contact  with  the  world,  is  to  cry.  The  cry 
may  not  be  music,  but  it  is  uttered  with  cadences  and 
inflections  that  need  only  an  artistic  adaptation  in  order 
to  become  such.  Moreover,  he  enjoys  and  repeats  the 
jingle  of  Mother  Goose's  and  other  rhymes  long  before 
he  learns  to  argue,  write,  draw,  whittle,  or  hammer,  and 
thus  to  develop  the  possibilities  of  oratory,  painting,  sculp- 
ture, and  architecture.  Childhood  is  essentially  the  age 
of  inarticulate  sound  or  of  noise,  and  youth  that  of 
poetry.  As  a  rule,  only  a  further  experience  of  the 
world  and  of  character  enables  a  man  rightly  to  appreciate 
the  representations  of  these  in  painting  and  sculpture,  or 
to  decide  successfully  upon  the  location  or  plan  of  that 
house  which  every  one  is  said  to  build  before  he  dies. 

The  earlier  and  later  forms  of  expression  in  the  history 
of  the  race  and  in  the  life  of  the  individual  have  thus  been 
briefly  indicated  on  account  of  their  bearing  upon  what 
is  to  follow.  All  thinkers  have  come  to  recognize  that 
the  order  of  development  of  any  phase  of  effects  in  the 
life  of  the  race  is  not  out  of  analogy  with  that  which  is 
true  of  the  same  phase  as  developed  in  one  individual's 
life,  whether  considered  as  a  whole,  which  has  just 
been  done ;  or  as  made  up  of  separate  parts,  each  the 
result  of  a  specific  event  or  series  of  events.  In  agree- 
ment with  this  principle,  we  shall  find  now  that  the 
order  of  the  different  successive  modes  in  which  a 
man  represents  the  different  successive  effects  upon 
his  mind  of  any  specific  event  or  series  of  events  cor- 
responds to  the  order  of  development  already  noticed  in 
the  other  cases.     In  other  words,  exactly  as  this  princi- 


192  ART  IN    THEORY. 

pie  migh*:  lead  us  to  infer,  we  shall  find  that,  as  related 
to  the  processes  of  representative  art,  the  mind  or  the 
imagination,  which  is  the  faculty  of  the  mind  principally 
engaged  in  the  work,  acts,  as  it  were,  like  a  mirror.  At 
different  stages,  as  the  trains  of  influence  pass  by,  it 
flashes  back  that  which  necessarily  takes  a  form  analo- 
gous either  to  music,  poetry  (oratory),  painting,  sculp- 
ture, or  architecture.  We  shall  find,  in  short,  that  all 
these  arts  are  elaborations  of  instinctive  modes  of  expres- 
sion which,  in  certain  circumstances,  the  mind  is  forced 
to  adopt,  all  representative  art  being,  as  Opie  says  of 
painting  in  the  first  of  his  *'  Lectures  "  upon  that  subject, 
"  a  language  that  must  exist,  in  some  greater  or  less  de- 
gree, whenever  the  human  intellect  approaches  a  certain, 
and  that  by  no  means  elevated,  standard."  To  make 
this  fact  clear  is  evidently  to  bring  to  light  principles 
that  lie  at  the  very  bottom  of  our  subject,  and  which, 
when  seen  in  their  true  proportions  and  relations,  will 
reveal  a  sure  foundation  on  which  to  base  all  that  is  to 
follow. 

Let  us  consider,  then,  at  first  briefly  and  superficially, 
which  is  all  that  is  necessary  at  this  stage,  the  general 
order  of  development  of  representative  modes  of  expres- 
sion in  the  case  of  an  individual  influenced  by  some  spe- 
cific event  or  series  of  events.  Suppose  a  man  to  be  in  a 
crowd  composed  of  persons  of  conflicting  opinions  with 
reference  to  some  subject  mentioned.  Suppose  that  a 
statement  be  suddenly  made  there — as  was  done  in  so 
many  places  in  our  country  in  1861,  when  Fort  Sumter 
fell — that  some  flag  has  been  fired  upon,  or  some  fortress 
captured.  Of  course,  the  effect  of  the  news  will  differ  in 
the  cases  of  different  individuals ;  but  let  us  observe  its 
influence  on  the  average  man  strongly  interested  in  what 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL    CONDITIONS,        I93 

is  thus  brought  to  his  notice.  Is  it  not  true  that  this 
man  will  first  experience  a  thrill  or  shock,  as  if  his  ner- 
vous system  had  been  physically  shaken  ?  At  the  same 
instant,  from  him,  or  at  least  from  some  parts  of  the 
crowd,  will  arise  sounds  of  approbation  or  of  disapproba- 
tion, cheers  or  hisses,  followed  by  exclamations  more  or 
less  inarticulate  or  incoherent,  according  to  the  degree  in 
which  the  one  uttering  them  is  more  or  less  excited. 
This  condition  evidently  can  have  no  artistic  expression 
unless  it  be  in  music.  In  fact,  have  not  many  of  us  been 
in  assemblies  under  similar  states  of  suddenly  awakened 
excitement,  in  which  the  most  natural  prompting  of 
every  instinct,  as  well  as  the  only  possible  expression  in  a 
manner  at  once  orderly  and  adequate,  was  literally  to 
burst  into  a  musical  chorus.  This  is  precisely  what  the 
crowds  on  Wall  Street,  New  York,  invariably  did  during 
the  American  civil  war,  when  receiving  news  from  the 
army,  especially,  of  course,  when  receiving  news  of  vic- 
tories; but  they  kept  up  their  courage  in  the  same  way, 
also,  when  receiving  news  of  defeats. 

But  let  us  pass  on.  Immediately  after  the  period  of 
indefinite  sounds,  will  come  definite  expressions  of  opin- 
ion. Now  notice  that  the  more  excited  the  men  utter- 
ing these,  or  listening  to  these,  happen  to  be,  the  more 
figurative,  as  a  rule,  will  be  their  language.  This  or  that 
must  be  done  "  like  this  or  that,"  will  be  the  formula 
upon  every  lip.  There  is  no  need  of  stopping  to  argue 
that  such  figurative  language  is  the  mode  of  representa- 
tion naturally  developed  into  poetry. 

At  the  stage  next  after  this,  expressions  of  opinion 
uttered  freely  in  a  crowd  mixed  like  the  6ne  that  we  are 
considering,  will  lead  necessarily  to  altercation,  disputa- 
tion, and,  if  practical  interests  be  involved,  to  efforts  at 


194  ART  IN   THEORY. 

persuasion.  Here  evidently,  as  it  is  well  enough  for  us 
to  observe  in  passing,  are  the  modes  of  representation 
natural  to  oratory. 

If,  after  a  time,  efforts  at  persuasion  are  recognized  to 
be  of  no  avail,  talking  will  necessarily  give  way  to  other 
methods.  Besides  employing  the  powers  of  voice  and 
gesture  men  will  begin  to  consider  and  to  use  something 
else,  something  involving  force  exerted  upon  that  which 
is  outside  of  themselves.  Before  turning  to  this,  however, 
the  majority  of  a  crowd,  like  the  one  of  which  we  are 
thinking,  will  take  the  measure  of  those  before  them. 
For  a  brief  moment,  at  least,  they  will  gaze  at  one  another, 
intent  to  see  exactly  what  it  is  that  they  have  to  face. 
That  which  at  this  moment  absorbs  the  attention,  if  it  is 
to  be  represented  at  all,  evidently  requires  a  picture.  A 
photographer,  did  he  happen  to  be  a  witness  of  the  scene, 
■vho,  so  long  as  he  was  sufficiently  excited  to  argue,  would 
not  think  of  the  mere  appearance  of  those  surrounding 
him,  might,  at  this  stage,  in  case  his  interest  did  not  carry 
him  on  to  the  next  stage,  bring  out  his  camera.  We  have 
here,  then,  conditions  which  are  at  the  basis  of  representa- 
tion according  to  the  modes  of  painting  and  sculpture. 

After  this  momentary  facing  of  the  situation,  however, 
any  one  not  willing  to  accept  conditions  as  they  present 
themselves  to  view,  will  evidently  be  prompted  to  take 
measures  for  changing  them.  If  surrounded  by  foes  ex- 
citing his  physical  nature,  he  will  plan  to  fight  them ;  if 
by  friends,  too,  whom  he  desires  to  lead  to  battle,  he  will 
do  what  he  can  toward  marshalling  them  into  companies 
and  battalions,  thus  changing  their  confusion  to  order. 
This  mood,  in  the  effect  that  it  has  in  rearranging  the 
appearances  of  nature,  is  evidently  analogous  to  that 
which   finds  expression  in  the  modes  of  representation 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.        1 95 

exemplified  partly  in  sculpture  and  wholly  in  architecture. 
In  the  latter  art,  the  mind  no  longer  accepts,  as  in  paint- 
ing, the  appearances  of  nature  as  they  are ;  it  asserts  its 
supremacy  over  the  influences  from  without,  and,  while 
accepting  certain  details,  attempts  to  change  the  condi- 
tions under  which  they  are  presented.  The  moment, 
however,  that  this  supremacy  becomes  actual,  the  m.oment 
that  a  man  becomes  really  free  from  the  influences  from 
without,  the  possibility  of  art  as  a  representation  of  the 
effects  of  nature  ceases.  The  occupation  of  the  artist  is 
gone  as  completely  as  that  of  a  soldier  who  has  no  foes. 
The  influence  that  first  prompted  to  expression  in  the 
forms  allied  to  music,  has  exhausted  itself.  We  have 
traced  it  to  a  point  beyond  which  it  can  be  traced  no 
farther. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

REPRESENTATION  IN  ART  AS  DEVELOPED  BY  MENTAL 
CONDITIONS;   CONSIDERED  PHYSIOLOGICALLY. 

Conditions  of  Natural  Influence  and  States  of  Consciousness  as  Represented 
in  each  Art — Ideas  in  the  Mind  and  the  Influence  from  Without  Com- 
pared to  Ice  and  to  Currents  Flowing  into  an  Inlet — The  Condition  Cor- 
responding to  Music,  Poetry,  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — 
This  Comparison  Corresponds  to  Physical  Facts,  Large  Vibrations  of 
the  Nerves  Causing  Sounds,  Small  Vibrations  Causing  Colors — Largest 
Nerve  Movement  Exerted  in  Connection  with  Music,  Less  with  Poetry, 
Less  with  the  Colors  of  Painting,  and  Least  with  the  less  Brilliant 
Colors  of  Sculpture  and  Architecture — Our  Nerves  are  directly  Con- 
scious of  the  Vibrations  of  Sounds,  as  in  Thunder,  but  not  of  those  of 
Color — This  Fact  as  Applied  Mythologically  and  Medicinally. 

TN  Chapter  XVI.  we  considered  certain  suggestions 
with  reference  to  the  order  of  the  development  of 
the  modes  of  representative  expression  which  seemed  to 
be  indicated  in  the  lives  of  races,  and  of  individuals,  and 
in  expression  itself,  as  naturally  determined  by  the  effects 
upon  the  mind,  at  different  successive  stages,  of  the  same 
experience.  Let  us  turn  now  to  that  for  the  sake  of 
which  this  order  was  noticed,  and  try  to  ascertain  what 
we  can  infer  from  it  with  reference  to  the  conditions  of 
consciousness  naturally  represented  in  each  art.  In  order 
to  do  this,  let  us  use  another  illustration.  At  first  it  may 
seem  fanciful.  Later  on  good  reasons  for  using  it  will  be 
given.  The  illustration  is  suggested  by  words  that  we 
apply  to  ordinary  experiences,  whose  extraordinary  devel- 

J96 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS,        I97 

opments  alone  lead  to  representative  art.  Words  are  like 
wrinkles,  external  marks  of  internal  moods.  Sometimes 
by  tracing  back  the  derivation  of  a  word,  one  may  find 
out  the  mental  condition  that  originated  it. 

To  apply  this  principle  in  the  present  instance.  When 
we  say  that  the  mind  is  moved  or  affected  by  an  influence 
exerted  from  without,  so  far  as  we  convey  any  meaning 
it  is  this :  that  the  mind  possesses  certain  thought-stores 
or  ideas,  and  that  these,  which  otherwise  would  be  sta- 
tionary, are  set  in  motion  when  something  from  without, 
by  an  influx  or  influence,  flows  into  it.  In  order  to  com- 
prehend fully  the  comparison  thus  indicated  by  the  words 
that  we  use,  let  us  do  something  that  shall  enable  us  in 
imagination  to  magnify  its  factors.  Let  us  represent  the 
ideas  in  the  mind  by  the  floating  but,  except  for  outside  in- 
fluence, stationary  ice  in  some  bay  or  inlet,  and  at  the 
same  time  represent  that  which  flows  into  the  mind  by 
the  waves  and  current  of  storm  and  tide  entering  this 
from  an  ocean.  Let  us  observe  now  what  is  the  natural 
order  of  development  of  the  relations  sustained  between 
the  waters  thus  forced  inward  and  the  ice  ?  Is  it  not 
something  like  this  ?  At  the  point  nearest  the  ocean,  the 
waves  sweeping  over  the  ice  break  off  and  bear  up  and 
down  small  portions  of  it  but  with  such  force  that  the  ice 
forms  but  an  insignificant,  perhaps  an  indistinguishable, 
part  of  the  effect  of  the  waves  as  a  whole.  A  little  fur- 
ther inward,  the  floating  ice  covers  the  waves.  We  see 
mainly  the  ice,  but  it  is  moving,  and  its  movement  indi- 
cates that  of  the  water  under  it.  Still  further  inward, 
the  portions  of  broken  ice,  crowded  together  by  the  force 
of  the  waves,  begin  to  offer  manifest  resistance.  Up  to 
this  point  one  could  hardly  distinguish  from  a  distance 
the  ice  from  the  waves.     Here  it  becomes  almost  impos- 


iqS  art  in  theory. 

sible  to  confound  the  two  ;  for  at  one  place  the  weight  on 
the  surface  is  seen  crushing  down  the  surf,  and  at  another 
the  surf  is  seen  breaking  through  and  above  the  surface. 
Last  of  all,  at  places  nearest  the  shore,  the  force  of  the 
waves  seems  to  be  crushed  out  completely,  yet  the  effects 
produced  by  it  are  abundantly  apparent  in  the  great 
moveless  heaps  of  ice  resting  against  the  water  line. 

This  order  of  development  in  the  relations  of  two 
physical  elements,  one  moving  in  upon  another,  which 
last,  till  moved,  is  stationary,  may  illustrate  the  successive 
relations  existing  in  the  mind  between  an  influence  enter- 
ing from  without,  and  the  ideas  which  are  moved  within. 
The  first  stage,  in  which  the  influence  is  more  powerful 
than  the  ideas,  which,  as  definite  ideas,  existing  apart 
from  it,  are  scarcely  recognizable,  is  represented  in  music. 
A  melody,  unaccompanied  by  words,  represents  a  7nove- 
fnent  imparted  to  the  mind,  and  yet  it  is  a  movement  or 
tendency,  not  particular  ideas,  that  the  melody  definitely 
represents. 

The  second  stage,  in  which  the  influence  from  without  or 
its  tendency  is  recognized  mainly  by  the  movement  of  the 
ideas  which  offer  no  apparent  resistance  to  the  influence, 
is  represented  in  poetry.  A  lyric  represents  a  movement 
imparted  to  the  thoughts,  but,  unlike  the  condition  in  a 
melody,  the  thoughts  of  the  lyric  appear  in  definite  form. 
It  is  these  thoughts  that,  according  to  their  order  of 
sequence,  reveal  the  tendency  which  impels  them. 

The  third  stage,  in  which  the  influence  from  without  is 
clearly  perceived  to  be  different  from  the  ideas  within, 
which  ideas,  while  still  moved,  manifest  some  resistance, 
is  represented  in  painting  and  sculpture.  These  arts 
reveal  much  more  plainly  than  either  music  or  poetry 
that  the  mind  has  been  moved  by  some  outward   form 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.        1 99 

which  they  imitate.  But  they  necessitate,  and,  in  a  sense 
not  true  of  either  of  the  arts  of  sound,  they  show  that 
they  necessitate,  great  conscious  effort  on  the  part  of 
the  intellect  in  arranging  outlines,  in  coloring  canvases, 
or  in  shaping  marbles,  so  as  to  make  the  forms  which 
are  imitated  embody  the  mind's  ideas.  If  the  influence  be 
strong  enough,  musical  melodies  and  poetic  passages 
seem  to  spring  to  the  lips  instinctively.  However  strong 
it  be,  pictures  and  statues  do  not  fall  into  shape  except  as 
a  result  of  thoughtful  work,  which  is  due  to  the  mind 
and  not  to  that  which  affects  it  from  without ;  work,  in 
other  words,  in  connection  with  which  the  ideas  within 
the  mind  emphasize  their  own  separate  existence. 

The  last  stage,  in  which  the  influence  seems  to  have 
almost  spent  its  force,  yet  not  before  it  has  left  the  ideas 
so  disposed  as  clearly  to  show  its  effects,  is  represented 
in  architecture.  This  reveals  that  the  mind  has  been  in- 
fluenced by  many  specific  forms  in  nature  as  well  as  by 
general  laws  conditioning  them.  Yet  buildings  seldom 
imitate  nature  in  the  same  sense  as  a  picture  or  a  statue. 
They  merely  accept  suggestions  from  nature.  Their  main 
effects  spring  from  the  general  disposition  of  the  ideas  in 
the  mind  in  view  of  what  has  been  observed  in  general. 
Architects  reconstruct  the  forms  about  them  on  the  lines  of 
previous  construction,  but  always  in  such  a  way  that 
mentality  seems  to  have  been  very  extensively  exercised 
in  offering  resistance  to  nature,  which  has  furnished  man 
with  pillars  so  far  only  as  they  may  appear  in  trees,  and 
with  walls  so  far  only  as  they  may  be  found  in  valleys. 

These  illustrations,  as  was  said,  may  appear  fanciful. 
They  have  been  suggested  by  merely  the  ordinary  terms 
through  which  we  designate  those  processes  of  mind 
which    we  are  now  considering.     Let   us  go   on   to   see 


200  ART  IN    THEORY. 

whether  this  order  of  development  in  the  relations  exist- 
ing between  the  influence  and  the  ideas,  has  any  basis  in 
facts;  first  in  physical  facts,  and  then  in  mental  facts, 
so  far  as  we  can  ascertain  them.  To  begin  with,  are 
there  any  physical  facts  which  justify  us  in  comparing  the 
action  of  outer  effects  upon  the  mind  to  that  of  waves 
upon  something  stationary ;  and  if  so,  is  there  any  reason 
why  these  waves,  at  their  greatest,  can  be  represented  in 
music,  and,  at  their  least,  in  architecture?  To  both 
of  these  questions  we  can  give  an  affirmative  answer. 
Physicists  tell  us  that  the  acoustic  nerve  floats  in  a  fluid 
back  of  the  drum  of  the  ear,  also  that  the  optic  nerve 
rests  against  a  corresponding  humor  back  of  the  crystal- 
line lens  of  the  eye.  They  tell  us  that  whenever  sounds 
or  sights  reach  intelligence,  they  are  conveyed  to  it  be- 
cause, as  a  fact,  these  nerves  are  physically  shaken  through 
the  influence  of  vibrations  or  waves  in  the  air,  which  strike 
the  ear  drum  or  crystalline  lens.  So  much  for  the  first 
question ;  now  for  the  second.  Physicists  tell  us  also 
that  the  waves  vibrating  to  shake  the  acoustic  nerve  are 
so  large  that,  at  the  least,  sixteen,  and,  at  the  most,  forty 
thousand,  can  move  in  a  second  of  time;  but  that,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  waves  shaking  the  retina  are  so 
minute  that,  at  the  least,  four  hundred  and  eighty-three 
trillions,  and,  at  the  most,  seven  hundred  and  twenty-seven 
trillions,  can  move  in  a  second.  If  these  assertions  indicate 
anything,  they  indicate  that  the  sensation  of  being  most 
shaken,  shaken  by  the  largest  waves,  or  when  the  influence 
has  most  force,  can  be  represented  or  communicated 
better — and  any  nervous  mother  with  half  a  dozen  small 
boys  will  confirm  the  statement  from  her  own  experience 
— through  sound  than  through  sight. 

Whether  we  consider  quantity  or  quality,  there  is  more 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS,       201 

of  sound  represented  in  music  than  in  poetry.  By  conse- 
quence, of  the  two  arts,  the  former  represents  better  the 
first  effect  of  a  motive  per  se ;  i.  e.,  the  most  powerful, 
the  least  exhausted  effect  of  any  influence  from  without, 
considered  merely  as  an  influence.  Oratory  appeals  to 
sight  as  well  as  to  hearing.  For  this  reason  it  represents 
a  later  effect  than  poetry.  Of  those  arts  which,  because 
they  appeal  to  sight  alone,  represent  effects  in  sight  still 
later  than  oratory,  painting  evidently  comes  first.  It  uses 
more  brilliancy  and  variety  of  color,  necessitating  larger 
vibrations — the  largest  of  all  for  instance,  producing  ex- 
treme red — and  also  greater  dependence  upon  everything 
conditioned  directly  by  influence  of  this  kind  than  is  the 
case  in  either  sculpture  or  architecture. 

There  are  other  physical  facts  which  confirm  what  has 
just  been  said.  Consider  the  degrees  of  force  accom- 
panying the  influences  which  affect  respectively  the  ear 
and  the  eye.  Thunder,  which  one  hears,  can  make  the 
foundations  of  one's  house  shake  literally.  Nothing 
similar  can  be  affirmed  of  effects  that  one  can  only  see. 

So  powerful  too  is  the  mere  physical  influence  of  sound 
that  sober  arguments  have  been  used  to  prove  that  one 
blast  of  the  trumpets  of  united  Israel  might,  of  itself,  have 
been  strong  enough  to  topple  over  the  walls  of  Jericho. 
The  Greeks,  whose  myths  with  reference  to  other  matters 
are  so  significant,  represented  their  conceptions  of  the  in- 
fluence of  music  in  the  story  of  Orpheus  and  Amphion, 
who,  with  their  harps,  drew  around  them  not  only  wild 
beasts,  but  trees  and  stones,  causing  all  to  dance  to  their 
melodies,  and  finally  bringing  the  latter  together  to 
form  the  walls  of  a  mighty  city.  Nor  are  these  concep- 
tions of  the  physical  influence  of  sound  expressed  in  myths 
alone.      Both  ancients  and   moderns  have   used   music 


202  ART  IN  THEORY, 

medicinally.  Plato,  Plutarch,  and  Cicero  all  speak  of  its 
supposed  remedial  powers.  We  are  told  that  Zenocrates 
employed  it,  like  David  before  Saul,  for  mental  disorders ; 
Asclepiades,  for  deafness ;  Thales,  for  pestilence ;  and 
the  Thebans,  for  other  diseases.  In  modern  times, 
eminent  physicians  in  England,  France,  and  Germany 
have  insisted  upon  its  efficacy  in  cases  not  only  of 
insanity,  but  of  hemorrhage,  fever,  and  of  almost  all 
kinds  of  spasmodic  troubles.  In  our  own  country  it  is 
used  more  or  less  in  insane  asylums.  Some  in  charge  of 
these  have  asserted  that  when  Quaker  patients,  who  re- 
fused to  listen  to  music  in  their  normal  moods,  became 
irrational,  it  was  one  of  the  few  agencies  that  seemed  to 
be  effective  in  calming  them.  One  cannot  help  thinking 
that  perhaps  a  little  more  of  something  to  appease  certain 
instinctive  cravings,  even  if  only  of  the  nerves, — a  little 
more  of  irrationality  distributed  through  their  previous 
years, — might  have  brought  the  lives  and  faculties  of  such 
people  into  greater  harmony.  However,  the  question  of 
the  medicinal  properties  of  sound  or  of  music  is  not  the 
one  with  which  we  are  here  concerned.  The  fact  has 
been  mentioned  merely  to  show  how  general  has  been 
the  belief  that  the  elements  entering  into  this  art,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  those  entering  into  other  arts, — though, 
in  a  limited  way,  the  same  has  been  affirmed  of  colors 
too, —  are  fitted  to  move  the  nerves,  even  to  the  extent  of 
producing  upon  them  an  alterative  physical  effect. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

REPRESENTATION    IN    ART  AS    DEVELOPED    BY    MENTAL 
CONDITIONS,   CONSIDERED   PSYCHOLOGICALLY. 

Mental  Facts  are  in  Accord  with  what  has  Preceded — Inarticulate  Cries 
Representative  of  Suddenly  Excited  Emotions — Why  these  Cries  are 
Intelligible — Association  and  Comparison — Emotion  Co-extensive  with 
Consciousness — Music  the  Language  of  the  Emotions — The  Indefinite- 
ness  of  its  Effect — Its  Degree  of  Definiteness — Gives  Direction  to  Sen- 
timent with  the  Least  Limitation  to  Freedom — Musical  Ideas  — 
Observation  of  Natural  Forms  and  Experience  of  Human  Sentiments 
are  both  Conditions  Underlying  Musical  Composition — Influence  from 
Without  and  Ideas  Within  in  Poetry — The  Function  of  Intelligence — In^ 
fluences  and  Ideas  Made  One  by  an  Exercise  of  Comparison — Association 
and  Comparison  at  the  Basis  of  Words  and  of  the  Forms  of  Language  and 
Poetry. 

T  N  the  illustration  given  in  Chapter  XVI.  of  a  man  in  a 
crowd,  excited  by  sudden  news,  it  was  said  that  his 
nervous  system  first  experienced  a  thrill  or  shock,  as  if 
there  had  been  a  literal  movement  involving  a  decided 
shaking  of  his  physical  nature.  In  Chapter  XVII.,  cer- 
tain facts  were  mentioned  as  justifying  one  in  supposing 
that  what  seemed  to  be  true  in  this  case  actually  might  be 
true.  Nevertheless  some  may  doubt  it.  Butevenif  so,  none 
can  doubt  that  whatever  in  such  circumstances  may  be 
affirmed  of  a  man's  physical  nature,  it  is  a  fact  that  at  least 
his  mental  nature  is  moved.  Mental  experiences,  appealing 
to  consciousness  under  the  form  of  mere  movement,  are 
termed  emotions  or  feelings.     The  first  experience  of  a 

203 


204  ART  IN  THEORY. 

man,  when  strongly  influenced  from  without,  makes  him 
mainly,  though  not  wholly,  unless  he  have  wholly  lost  his 
mind,  conscious  of  these.  His  first  and  always  an  instinc- 
tive expression  simultaneous  with  such  an  experience  is 
an  inarticulate  cry.  If  we  startle  a  person — come  upon 
him  suddenly,  for  instance,  in  the  dark — in  nine  cases  out 
of  ten  we  hear  this  cry,  its  intensity  being  in  direct  pro- 
portion to  his  lack  of  control  over  those  powers  of  his 
mind  which  give  rise  to  definiteness  in  thought.  The 
child  is  more  likely  to  scream  than  the  man. 

These  facts  suggest,  at  once,  their  reason.  One  utters 
inarticulate  sounds,  because  he  has  not  had  time  enough, 
either  absolutely,  or  relatively  to  the  intensity  of  his  feel- 
ings, to  collect  and  formulate  them  into  words  ;  often, 
indeed,  not  even  into  thoughts  that  are  definite  to  himself. 
If  they  were  so,  he  would  use  the  only  form  capable  of 
representing  definite  thought,  which  is  language.  *'  Ever 
since  the  time  of  Wilhelm  von  Humboldt,"  says  Max 
Miiller,  who  develops  this  theory,  at  length,  in  the  first 
two  chapters  of  his  "  Science  of  Thought  '* —  "  all  who 
have  seriously  grappled  with  the  highest  problems  of 
the  science  of  language  have  come  to  the  conviction  that 
thought  and  language  are  inseparable,  that  language  is  as 
impossible  without  thought  as  thought  is  without  lan- 
guage ;  that  they  stand  to  each  other  like  soul  and  body, 
like  power  and  function,  like  substance  and  form."  In  the 
instance  which  we  have  been  considering,  we  have  noticed 
that  the  man  does  not  use  language.  He  simply  cries  out, 
with  little  more  articulation  than  the  brute,  whose  ideas, 
for  the  very  reason  that  he  cannot  articulate,  as  suggested 
in  Chapter  II.,  probably  never  become  very  clear,  even  to 
himself,  and  therefore  need  no  clear  form  of  expression. 

Human   utterances,  however,  even  when  inarticulate, 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.        205 

are  more  intelligible  to  us  than  are  those  of  the  brutes ; 
and  mainly  for  two  reasons — their  variety  and  their  con- 
secutiveness.  In  the  first  place  a  man  can  produce  many 
different  sounds,  each  of  which  represents  a  different 
meaning.  That  which  enables  these  to  represent  this  is 
seldom,  in  the  case  of  inarticulate  utterance,  any  actual 
or  suggested  likeness  between  the  sound  and  its  signifi- 
cance. As  a  rule,  a  sound  suggesting  significance  is 
imitative,  and  as  a  rule  too  an  imitative  sound  is  a  re- 
sult of  articulation.  Besides  this,  it  requires  also  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  reflection,  and  at  this  stage  of  the  cry  a 
man  has  not  had  time  for  reflection  (see  "  Poetry  as  a  Rep- 
resentative Art,"  Chapter  I  ).  The  earlier  instinctive  or 
ejaculatory  utterances  usually  mean  what  they  do,  because 
whenever  they  are  uttered  in  like  circumstances,  as  in 
the  cases  of  crying  and  laughter  for  instance,  they  are 
alike  in  sound.  For  this  reason  men  come  to  associate 
them  with  these  circumstances.  Notice,  however,  that,  in 
a  case  like  this,  to  associate  the  effects  is  very  much  the 
same  in  principle  as  to  compare  them,  as  would  be  done 
if  there  were  imitation.  Association  involves  a  likeness 
or  comparison  in  the  relations  to  the  same  period  or  place 
of  at  least  two  effects  otherwise  different.  Association 
and  comparison,  therefore,  though  not  the  same,  are  subtly 
allied.  It  is  the  former  that  chiefly  underlies  the  use  of 
inarticulate  exclamations ;  and  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
recall  for  the  reader  that,  through  using  these  alone,  the 
smallest  babe  can  make  known  its  wants,  and  a  foreigner 
in  any  part  of  the  globe  can  communicate,  if  not  his 
thoughts,  at  least  his  more  important  feelings,  like  those 
of  surprise,  fright,  contempt,  and  joy.  But,  in  the  sec- 
ond place,  inarticulate  sounds,  as  produced  by  men,  in  a 
degree  not  true  of  those  produced  by  mere  animals,  may  be 


2o6  ART  IN  THEORY. 

uttered  consecutively, — a  fact  suggesting  that  they  may 
represent  mental  movements,  not  only  by  way  of  asso- 
ciation, but  also  of  comparison,  inasmuch  as  both  sounds 
and  emotions  are  alike  at  least  in  being  consecutive.  The 
relevancy  of  this  remark  will  appear  upon  recalling  again 
the  experience  of  the  man  in  the  crowd.  He  is  conscious, 
when  he  calls  out,  not  of  one  feeling,  but  of  many.  These 
come  flooding  through  his  mind  consecutively,  recognized 
at  first  only  as  feelings.  But  after  a  time  they  begin 
to  sway  his  thought  as  the  tides  do  the  ice  which  they 
undermine,  and  then  heave  up  and  down  in  their  own  cur- 
rent. Long  before  this,  however,  his  feelings  must  have 
been  moving  in  the  same  directions  as  the  thoughts  of 
which  he  suddenly  becomes  conscious.  Therefore,  if  in- 
articulate sounds  can  represent,  though  only  in  a  general 
way,  the  consecutive  nature  of  these  feelings,  they  can 
represent  also  the  general  tendency  or  direction  of  the 
thoughts  and,  up  to  the  point  where  these  thoughts  as- 
sume definiteness,  nothing  except  such  sounds  can  repre- 
sent them.  After  this,  words  begin  to  be  used,  but  the 
feelings  still  continue  to  be  represented  in  the  emphasis, 
i.  e.y  in  the  intonation  of  the  words  as  distinguished  from 
their  mere  articulation.  Later  on,  when  the  feelings  sub- 
side, the  variations  of  intonation  become  less  obvious. 

As  a  fact,  however,  the  feelings  never  do  subside 
entirely.  So  long  as  thoughts  move  at  all,  emotions 
operate  behind  them  ;  just  as  men,  so  long  as,  without 
exertions  of  their  own,  they  move  forward  in  a  crowd,  are 
pushed,  although  not  directly  conscious  that  this  is  so. 
"  What  most  people  are  alive  to,"  says  an  anonymous 
musical  critic  in  the  "  London  Times,"  "  is  the  existence  of 
emotions  in  their  more  intense  forms.  Once  in  the  course 
of  the  day,  or  two  or  three  times  during  the  month,  they 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS,         2QJ 

have  been  greatly  moved  or  excited,  pleasurably  or 
otherwise.  But  what  few  people  realize,  is  that  emotion 
is  co-extensive  with  consciousness.  Physically  this  is  the 
case,  for  there  is  no  pause  in  the  incessant  disturbance 
and  rearrangement  of  the  cerebral  molecules  which  are 
inseparably  connected  with  the  phenomena  of  human 
consciousness,  and  human  consciousness  itself  is  nothing 
but  an  uninterrupted  concatenation  of  emotions,  most  of 
them  so  unimportant,  so  involved,  and  succeeding  each 
other  with  such  intense  rapidity  that  we  take  no  note  of 
them."  We  can  all  recognize,  without  explanation,  the 
bearing  of  this  upon  our  subject.  Inarticulate  sound  is 
representative  of  emotion.  And  emotion,  as  the  same 
writer  says,  "  is  the  very  breath  and  Hfe-blood  of  thought, 
without  which  it  would  remain  but  a  pale  and  powerless 
shadow.  As  the  sun  brings  light  and  warmth  to  the  visible 
world,  as  without  it  the  whole  life  of  the  physical  world 
would  lie  forlorn  in  one  long  midnight  of  cold  paralysis, 
even  so  the  solar  orb  of  our  emotions  kindles  each  thought 
and  endows  each  conception  with  fertile  activity." 

The  art,  therefore,  that  is  developed  from  the  possibility 
of  sound,  irrespective  of  articulation,  is  the  one  that  is 
fittest  to  represent  emotion  as  emotion  alone.  This  art 
is  music.  "  Music,"  says  the  writer  just  quoted,  "is  the 
language  of  the  emotions."  "  Its  business,"  says  J.  S. 
Dwight,  in  an  essay  on  '*  The  Intellectual  Influence  of 
Music,"  published  in  the  "Atlantic  Monthly"  for  1870, 
"  is  directly  with  the  motive  principles  in  human  hfe,  and 
not  with  thoughts,  perceptions,  memories." 

The  truth  of  this  lies  on  the  surface.  In  music,  there 
are  no  words  to  inspire  as  in  poetry,  no  movements  to 
animate,  as  in  oratory,  no  forms,  or  colors  to  attract,  as  in 
sculpture  or  painting,  nothing  whatever  to  indicate  defin- 


208  ART  IN   THEORY. 

itely  that  of  which  one  should  think.  Music  addresses  itself 
directly  to  the  feelings  and,  when  it  has  stirred  these, 
leaves  them  to  suggest  whatever  thoughts  of  joy  or  of 
sadness  may  lie  nearest  to  the  heart  of  the  man  who  is 
under  its  control.  The  same  strains  may  affect  differently, 
so  far  as  regards  merely  the  form  of  thought,  the  ex- 
perience of  every  one  who  listens  to  them.  It  may  make 
a  child  think  of  his  nursery,  a  youth  of  his  school,  a  mer- 
chant of  his  counting-room.  Yet  with  all  this,  it  would 
be  an  error  to  think  that  the  mental  influence  of  the  art 
is  slight.  The  story  of  the  men  hired  to  assassinate  Stra- 
della,  who,  after  listening  to  his  oratorio  in  Rome,  dropped 
their  weapons  and  became  the  saviors  of  his  life,  is  only 
one  of  a  thousand  evincing  the  contrary.  To  those  who 
can  appreciate  this  art  it  can  bring  joy  or  sadness,  smiles 
or  tears,  long  after  every  other  purely  aesthetic  influence 
has  ceased  to  affect  them.     In  fact,  there  is 

— nought  so  stockish.  hard  and  full  of  rage, 
But  music  for  the  time  doth  change  his  nature. 

Merchant  of  Venice ^  v.,  i  :  Shakespeare. 

Nor  does  the  efi'ect  of  the  art  seem  slight,  even  when 
we  consider  its  ability  to  influence  one  in  merely  definite 
directions.  We  have  noticed  already  the  tendency  which 
the  feelings  have,  and  so,  of  course,  anything  that  repre- 
sents them,  to  sweep  thought  and  action  along  in  their  own 
current.  Writers  upon  music  in  all  ages  have  shown  by 
examples  that  this  is  its  peculiar  effect.  Timotheus  with 
his  flute,  they  have  told  us,  could  stir  the  passions  of 
Alexander  either  to  bloodshed  or  to  mercy,  and  Tyrtaeus 
so  roused  the  Spartans  simply  by  singing,  that  they 
gained  a  victory  over  foes  to  whom  they  had  before  sub- 
mitted.    On  the  contrary,  through  the  agency  of  this  art 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL  CONDITIONS,        209 

Pythagoras  is  said  to  have  restrained  one  from  arson,  and 
Empedocles  another  from  murder.  A  musician  is  declared 
to  have  influenced  the  Sultan  Amurath  so  as  to  save  the 
lives  of  thirty  thousand  Persians  previously  condemned 
to  death ;  and  another  musician  is  known  to  have  been 
himself  so  affected  when  listening  to  an  overture  of  Han- 
del, as,  from  sheer  ecstasy,  to  have  lost  his  life. 

Music  furnishes  perhaps  the  best  possible  illustration 
of  a  fact  noticed  to  be  true  universally  whenever,  rising 
above  purely  physical  conditions,  we  come  to  consider 
forces  fitted  to  affect  the  mind  and  soul, — the  fact,  that  it 
is  of  more  importance  to  influence  the  substance  of 
thought  than  the  form  of  thought ;  of  more  importance 
to  aim  for  something  giving  direction  to  sentiment  than 
definiteness  to  statement  ;  in  short,  that  the  most  pro- 
found and  lasting  effect  upon  experience  is  exerted  in 
connection  with  that  which,  at  the  same  time,  allows  the 
greatest  freedom  to  expression.  This  principle  is  illus- 
trated more  or  less  in  all  the  arts.  Otherwise  they  would 
not  merely  represent  what  they  have  to  express;  in 
direct  form  they  would  present  it.  But  the  principle  is 
especially  noticeable  in  music  ;  and  for  this  reason,  prob- 
ably, the  production  of  it  is  mentioned  so  often  in  the 
Bible  in  order  to  describe  symbolically  the  employment 
of  heaven.  Other  arts,  by  words,  shapes,  or  colors,  con- 
fine thought  to  some  extent ;  indicating,  as  they  do  in  no 
unmistakable  way,  that  of  which  one  should  think.  Not 
so  with  music.  It  may  hold  the  feelings  of  a  multitude 
in  absolute  control ;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  it  may  leave 
each  individual  absolutely  free  to  think  the  thought  and 
to  do  the  deed  that  is  prompted  by  his  individual 
instincts. 

Enough  has  been  said,  however,  whether  we  consider  the 


2IO  ART  IN   THEORY. 

sources  of  music  or  what  it  can  represent,  to  show  its  gen- 
eral  nature.  **  It  is,"  as  Mr.  Dwight  in  the  essay  just  quoted 
says,  "  the  most  fluid,  free  expression  of  form  in  the  be- 
coming— what  the  Germans  call  das  werden — form  de- 
veloping according  to  intrinsic  and  divine  necessity.  It 
does  not  express  ideas,  except  of  the  kind  technically 
known  as  musical  ideas,  pregnant  little  gems  of  melody 
capable  of  logical  development  in  a  way  analogous  " — and 
we  have  seen  in  what  sense  analogous — "  to  the  develop- 
ment of  thought."  These  musical  ideas,  as  we  have 
noticed,  are  expressed  through  inarticulate  sounds.  Such 
alone  can  represent  emotions  pure  and  simple.  These 
sounds,  moreover,  are  consecutive.  Such  alone,  changing 
from  one  phase  to  another,  can  represent  the  consecutive 
processes  that  are  always  characteristic  of  mental  move- 
ments. 

We  can  apprehend  now  what  is  to  be  done  by  the 
musical  composer.  Startled  by  circumstances,  the  child 
of  nature  utters  inarticulate  cries.  These  are  instinctive 
in  their  origin  ;  but  are  always  alike  when  the  mind  is  in- 
fluenced by  like  motives.  Therefore  men  associate  the 
cries  with  the  motives,  for  which  reason  the  cries  may 
be  said  to  be  representative  of  the  motives.  Availing  him- 
self of  this  fact  the  artist  endeavors  to  portray  in  music 
the  effect  not  of  a  single  feeling,  but  of  an  entire  current 
of  feelings  as  set  in  motion  by  outside  influences.  Notice 
too  that  all  the  developments  of  the  art  continue  as  it 
begins.  Notwithstanding  the  very  limited  amount  of 
imitation  and,  in  this  sense,  of  comparison  that  we  find 
in  music,  nevertheless,  a  great  composer,  through  in- 
troducing only  a  few  imitative  notes,  may  force  the 
mind  to  connect  two  things  as  radically  different  as,  say, 
a  symphony  and  a  landscape.     That  he  may  accomplish 


DE  VELOPMENT  B  Y  MENTAL    CONDITIONS.         2 1 1 

this  end,  two  conditions  are  necessary :  he  must  have 
observed  the  particular  character  of  the  sounds  through 
which  the  child  of  nature,  and,  in  some  cases,  through 
which  the  irrational  creature,  represents  particular  feel- 
ings ;  and  again,  he  must  have  been  conscious  within 
himself  of  feelings  similarly  excited — similar  in  kind, 
that  is,  not  in  degree — and  hence  capable  of  being  repre- 
sented similarly.  The  two  conditions  go  together.  Unless 
he  has  observed  the  forms  of  expression  in  natural  life, 
the  forms  at  his  command,  to  be  used  in  his  art-product, 
will  be  few  in  number.  Unless  he  himself  has  experienced 
feelings  that  naturally  lead  to  such  expressions,  the  few 
forms  that  he  does  use  will  not  be  used  appropriately. 
They  will  have  little  meaning.  They  will  not  speak  to 
the  universal  human  heart  with  the  authority  of  a  veritable 
language  of  the  emotions.  In  short,  we  notice  what  is  in 
exact  analogy  with  the  line  of  thought  in  the  chapters  pre- 
ceding this,  namely,  that  the  same  conditions  which  make 
music  representative  of  human  nature  or  of  natural  feel- 
ing, render  it  representative  also  of  the  artist  or  of  the 
artist's  feeling  ;  in  other  words  that  to  be  truly  represen- 
tative of  nature,  this  art  must  be  representative  of  man 
also.  So  much  for  the  phase  of  natural  influence,  which, 
working  upon  the  experience  of  men  in  general  and 
through  them  upon  artists  in  particular,  leads  to  music. 

Let  us  go  on  now  to  consider  that  which  leads  to 
poetry.  This  results,  as  we  have  found,  when  the  motive 
which  previously  has  influenced  the  thought  indefinitely, 
and  which  therefore  could  be  represented  appropriately 
in  only  indefinite  or  inarticulate  sounds,  reaches  the 
region  of  definite  thought.  Our  question  now  concerns 
the  form  that  will  first  be  assumed  by  this  thought.  To 
go  back  to  the  men   in  the  crowd — all  are  supposed  to 


212  ART  IN  THEORY, 

have  received  through  words  the  same  information ;  to 
have  heard  the  same  thing.  Will  any  two  of  them  think 
or  say  the  same  thing?  A  moment's  consideration  will 
show  that  they  will  not.  The  form  of  the  thoughts  or 
words  that  appear  in  consciousness  will  depend  altogether 
upon  the  character  of  the  ideas  with  which  the  particular 
mind  to  which  information  has  been  given  is  already 
stocked.  Suppose  that  a  man  be  prompted  to  enlist.  If 
his  mind  be  stored  with  facts  of  history,  he  may  think 
about  Wellington  at  Waterloo,  or  Grant  at  Vicksburg. 
If  he  be  accustomed  to  views  of  external  nature,  he  may 
think  about  thunder  and  lightning  felling  the  forests,  or 
hail  and  flood  sweeping  through  mountain  passes.  Like 
such  persons  or  things,  he  will  conceive  of  himself  as 
warring  against  opposition.  And  not  only  will  he  con- 
ceive of  this,  he  will  express  in  words  the  substance  of  his 
conceptions.  Nine  persons  out  of  ten,  speaking  in  such 
circumstances,  will  say,  or  at  least  imply  in  what  they 
say,  *'  We  must  fight  like  this  person  or  thing,  or  like 
that  person  or  thing,"  which  they  mention. 

Notice  particularly  now  the  condition  of  mind  that  this 
fact  indicates.  Thoughts  and  words  are  moving  in  accord- 
ance with  the  direction  given  them  by  the  influence  from 
without.  The  thoughts  themselves,  however,  are  not  this 
influence,  but  something  diff"erent  from  it.  The  effect, 
therefore,  as  it  reveals  itself,  both  in  consciousness  and  in 
outward  expression,  is  one  mainly  of  intelligence  (inter  and 
lego)  i.  e.,  of  reading  between  two  things,  or,  as  we  might 
say,  of  considering  two  elements  so  similar  that  they  can 
be  compared,  yet  so  dissimilar  that  they  cannot  but  be 
separated.  This  result  might  be  explained  as  follows: 
Vibratory  waves  breaking  against  the  nerves  of  the  out- 
ward senses  have  produced,  so  far  as  we  can  judge  from 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.        21 3 

analogy,  vibrations  among  what  we  term  the  emotions. 
But  the  mind  subjected  to  these  vibrations  is  already 
filled  with  certain  conceptions  in  the  forms  of  sounds  that 
are  words,  or  of  sights  that  are  visions  of  external  nature, 
which  words  and  visions  are  to  it  symbols  of  ideas. 
These  symbols,  therefore,  the  moment  that  the  influence 
from  without,  passing  through  the  nerves  and  emotions, 
reaches  them,  are  necessarily  set  in  motion. 

A  man  cries  out  concerning  a  fortress  and  its  defenders, 
"  We  must  storm  it,  we  must  give  them  thunder  and  light- 
ning!" If  storms,  thunder  and  lightning,  and  other 
definite  conceptions  were  not  already  in  his  mind  to  be 
influenced  by  the  motive  from  without,  this  motive  could 
not  represent  itself  to  him  through  them.  But  inasmuch 
as  they  are  there,  and  his  mind  is  filled  with  them,  it  must 
represent  itself  thus.  If  the  ice  on  a  sheet  of  water  fill 
all  the  surface,  an  observer  cannot  know  that  the  water  is 
moving,  unless  he  see  the  ice  moving.  It  is  important  to 
notice  also — what  is  equally  true — that  he  cannot  see  the 
ice  moving  unless,  as  a  fact,  the  water  under  it  moves. 
So  a  man  cannot  think  of  storms,  thunder  and  lightning, 
unless,  according  to  the  law  of  association,  something  in- 
fluences him  to  think  of  them. 

It  seems  to  be  a  necessary  condition  of  definite  thought, 
therefore,  that  there  should  be,  in  the  first  place,  concep- 
tions already  in  the  mind,  and,  in  the  second  place,  a 
motive  owing  to  the  influence  of  which  they  are  revealed 
to  consciousness.  Ordinarily  a  man  conceives  of  both  the 
conceptions  and  the  motive  as  one.  He  does  so,  how- 
ever, according  to  the  same  principle  that  leads  him,  when 
he  sees  ice  moving  in  the  river,  to  say  that  the  water  is 
moving.  The  two  things,  ice  and  water,  are  different.  It 
is  the  mind  that  unites  them.     At  the  same  time,  thought 


214  ART  IN   THEORY. 

IS  conscious,  all  the  while,  that  they  are  two  things,  and  not 
one.  The  motive  in  poetry,  as  in  music,  sweeps  the  emo- 
tions onward  to  instinctive  action.  But  in  poetry,  the 
ideas,  caught  up  in  the  tide,  clearly  repeat,  or,  as  we  may 
say,  reinforce  the  motive  ;  and  that  which  causes  the  mind 
to  consider  both  motive  and  idea  as  one  thing  and  not 
two  is  the  fact  that,  with,  of  course,  some  contrasts,  they 
compare  together,  and  also  the  fact  that  the  mind  is  con- 
scious that  they  do  this.  Conscious  comparison,  therefore, 
rather  than  the  unconscious  phases  of  it  and  of  associa- 
tion that  lead  to  the  developments  of  music,  lies  at  the 
basis  of  poetry. 

There  are  evidences  of  this  comparison  all  the  way, 
from  the  very  beginnings  of  definite  thought  to  its 
most  mature  developments.  This  fact  with  its  bearings 
upon  language,  and  especially  upon  the  language  of 
poetry,  will  be  found  brought  out  fully  in  the  volume  of 
this  series  of  essays  entitled  "  Poetry  as  a  Representative 
Art,"  Chapters  L,  XIV.-XVII.,  and  XXVII.  In  order  to 
suggest,  however,  what  is  meant  by  the  assertion  just  made, 
it  may  be  well  here,  by  way  of  illustration,  to  recall  for  a 
moment  one  or  two  of  the  conditions  of  language  which 
are  pointed  out  there,  and  which  are  universally  acknowl- 
edged. Reference  has  been  made  already,  in  speaking  of 
music,  to  ejaculations.  These  come  to  have  definite  mean- 
ings and  to  be  used  as  words,  because  of  the  principle  of 
association.  But  besides  words  of  this  kind  there  are  certain 
other  words,  and  usually,  as  will  be  noticed,  words  that 
are  definite  in  the  sense  of  being  articulated,  that  in  their 
primitive  forms  are  sounds  used  by  way  of  imitation. 
Something  passes  by  with  a  whizzing  noise.  In  order  to 
represent  it,  a  man  says  it  whizzes — an  utterance  which, 
when  used  in  the  same  sense  by  others  who  have  heard  it 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.        21 5 

SO  used  by  him,  became  a  word ;  and  it  becomes  so 
through  an  effort  to  express  comparison.  All  men,  what- 
ever may  be  their  theories  with  reference  to  the  origin  of 
language,  are  ready  to  admit  that  very  many  words,  like 
whiz,  buzz,  rustle,  crackle,  roar,  may  be  attributed  to  a 
similar  cause.  In  fact,  as  was  intimated  a  moment  ago, 
even  the  words  that  owe  their  origin  to  the  principle  of 
association  have  a  source  subtly  allied  to  comparison  ; 
they  involve  a  comparison  between  the  relations  which 
two  effects  otherwise  different  bear  to  the  same  period  or 
place.  Similar  associative  and  comparative  methods  of 
originating  words  are  manifested  in  the  way  also  in  which 
their  primary  meanings  pass  into  their  secondary  mean- 
ings. The  villagers  of  the  old  Roman  Empire  were  called 
pagani ;  and  they  were  the  last  in  the  Empire  to  accept 
Christianity.  Therefore,  by  way  of  association,  all  who 
did  not  accept  Christianity  came  to  be  called  pagans. 
Again,  when  men  had  begun  to  use  a  sound  like  whizy 
as  a  word,  something  would  pass  quickly  making  a  very 
different  sound,  possibly  none  at  all.  Still  they  would  say 
that  it  whizzed,  and  this  because  they  would  compare  the 
motion  of  a  noiseless  body  when  passing  to  that  of  one 
which  when  passing  did  whiz.  Such  words  as  this  are  at 
first  used  figuratively,  and  later  with  no  thought  of  the 
figure  in  them.  The  writer  once  heard  a  Doctor  of 
Divinity  open  the  public  exercises  of  a  literary  institution 
with  a  prayer  beginning  thus  :  ''  Not  with  a  rush  " — and 
here  there  was  a  rush,  for  everybody  moved  and  opened 
his  eyes  as  well  as  ears  to  note  what,  after  a  pause,  was  to 
follow — "  do  we  come  into  thy  presence,  O  Lord."  The 
Doctor  had  a  reputation  for  originality,  especially  in  the 
use  of  figures.  But  while  he  was  influenced  by  the  prin- 
ciple of  comparison,  the  people  were  influenced  by  that 


2l6  ART  IN  THEORY. 

of  association,  and,  on  their  part,  did  go  into  the  prayer 
with  a  rush,  as  if  for  the  express  purpose  of  proving  the 
peril  of  applying  the  one  principle  in  a  case  where  it  had 
become  conventional  to  apply  the  other.  But  enough.  The 
illustrations  used  are  sufficient  for  our  purpose  here,  which 
is  simply  to  suggest  to  what  an  extent  the  meanings  of 
words,  whether  primary  or  secondary,  are  developed 
according  to  the  very  closely  allied  methods  of  association 
and  comparison. 

Isolated  words,  however,  do  not  constitute  language. 
Before  they  can  become  such,  they  must  be  put  into 
phrases  and  sentences.  But  what  are  these  phrases  and 
sentences,  again,  except  words  uttered  consecutively  in 
such  a  way  that  the  order  of  their  utterance  or  depend- 
ence upon  one  another  shall  compare  with  the  order,  i,  e.y 
the  direction  or  tendency,  of  the  different  phases  of  the 
mental  motive  which  prompts  to  them  ?  Through  the 
whole  extent  of  language,  therefore,  which  furnishes 
the  material  or  medium  for  the  expression  of  poetry,  we 
find  in  constant  operation  this  process  of  comparison. 
The  same  thing  is  true,  but  need  not  be  argued,  with 
reference  to  metaphors,  similes,  and  representations  of 
characters  and  events,  which  all  acknowledge  to  be  neces- 
sary to  the  further  development  of  poetic  language  and 
thought. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

REPRESENTATION    IN   ART    AS    DEVELOPED    BY    MENTAL 

CONDITIONS,   CONSIDERED   PSYCHOLOGICALLY. 

{Continued.) 

Definite  Conceptions  in  Opposition  to  the  Influence  from  Without,  Lead  to 
the  Distinguishing  of  the  One  from  the  Other — Persuasion  and  Oratory 
— How  Differing  from  Poetry  and  Fine  Art — In  the  latter,  the  Influ- 
ences from  Without  and  from  the  Ideas  suggest  Contrast — Re  dering 
Necessary  an  External  Medium  of  Representation — Bearing  of  this  sub- 
ject upon  Poetic  Descriptions — Rendering  necessary  also  a  Stationary 
Medium — Landscape  Gardening — Painting  —  Sculpture,  Representing 
less  of  Nature  and  more  of  Ideas  within  the  Mind — Therefore  Offer- 
ing more  Resistance  to  the  Motive  from  Without — Architecture  Rep- 
resents the  Will,  in  that  it  is  still  less  Influenced  by  Natural  Forms 
— In  the  Latter  Regard  Architecture  Resembles  Music — For  an  Oppo- 
site Reason,  Poetry,  Painting,  and  Sculpture  are  between  these  Ex- 
trenies — Completeness  of  this  Analysis  of  the  Arts  in  Accordance  with 
their  Development  from  Representative  Effects. 

T  ET  us  go  back  now  to  the  illustration  used  in  Chapter 
XVII.  The  man  in  the  crowd,  after  words  have  given 
expression  to  his  sentiments,  and  others  have  begun  to 
express  their  opinions,  will  discover  invariably,  that  in  some 
regards  others  differ  from  him.  As  his  ideas  are  still  influ- 
enced by  that  which  flows  in  from  without,  he  will  still 
be  conscious  of  a  comparison  between  them  and  it.  But 
he  will  be  more  conscious  than  before  of  an  outside  world, 
and  of  a  contrast  between  that  which  comes  from  it  and 
that  which  pertains  to  himself. 

217 


2l8  ART  IN  THEORY. 

At  first,  however,  this  feeling  is  overbalanced  by 
another.  The  man  imagines  that  if  he  can  only  repre- 
sent clearly  and  forcibly  his  own  notions,  he  will  be  able 
to  persuade  others  to  agree  with  him,  i.  e.,  that  their 
views  and  his  may  be  made  to  compare.  You  will  recog- 
nize this  to  be  the  motive  prompting  to  oratory,  which, 
though  not  purely  a  fine  or  an  aesthetic  art,  needs  to  be 
mentioned  here,  because  it  forms  a  connecting  link 
between  poetry  and  the  next  aesthetic  art  in  order  most 
nearly  allied  to  it,  namely  painting. 

Oratory  is  composed  of  elements  underlying  elocution, 
rhetoric,  and  pantomime.  Of  these,  elocution  is  allied  to 
music,  rhetoric  to  poetry,  and  pantomime  to  figure-paint- 
ing and  sculpture.  Oratory,  therefore,  is  related  both  to 
the  arts  already  considered  and  to  those  that  are  to 
follow.  Its  distinguishing  feature,  however,  without  which 
it  could  not  exist,  is  not  the  combination  in  it  of  elocu- 
tion, rhetoric,  and  pantomime  ;  but  the  use  of  all  these  for 
the  purposes  of  persuasion.  But  persuasion  comes  later 
in  the  order  of  nature  than  does  mere  language.  Besides 
this,  while  poetry  represents  comparison  between  the 
motive  and  the  language,  oratory  represents  comparison 
between  language  and  delivery.  The  former  two  are 
much  more  subtly  connected  than  are  the  latter  two.  In 
the  former,  while  the  mind  actually  compares  motives  and 
language,  it  virtually  considers  both  as  one.  The  result, 
whether  natural  or  artistic,  is  largely  instinctive.  The 
poet  is  born  a  poet.  In  the  latter,  the  mind  likens  factors 
that  are  further  apart.  Its  comparisons  are  often  far 
from  instinctive,  being  very  clearly  the  results  of  conscious 
reflection.  The  orator  always  needs  some  culture  before 
his  tones  and  gestures  can  be  conformed  in  every  case  to 
speech.     In  a  sense  not  true  of  the  poet,   the  orator  is 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.         219 

made.  We  see,  at  once,  how  different  are  the  conditions 
of  oratory  from  those  of  the  arts  previously  considered. 
Emotion  influencing  mainly  the  feelings,  leads  to  music  ; 
influencing  the  thoughts  to  poetry  ;  influencing  the  will 
to  oratory.  The  orator  strives  to  give  expression  to 
feelings  or  thoughts  not  for  the  sake  of  their  own  intrinsic 
worth  or  beauty,  but  for  their  influence  upon  others.  As 
already  pointed  out  in  Chapter  IX.,  oratory  is  not  so 
much  an  aesthetic  as  a  practical  art.  As  soon  as  the 
speaker  loses  all  hope  of  causing  others  to  agree  with 
him,  he  ceases  to  harangue  them. 

Now  we  have  reached  a  stage  where  we  must  pass  on 
to  consider  another  experience  and  mode  of  expression. 
As  shown  in  the  illustration  of  the  man  in  the  crowd,  one 
may  check  himself  just  where  he  ceases  to  declaim,  and, 
before  he  assumes  the  physically  offensive,  stand  gazing  at 
that  which  is  passing, — a  mood  which,  if  represented  at  all, 
necessitates  some  sort  of  a  picture.  Let  us  look  at  the 
facts  here  carefully.  To  check  oneself  implies  that  one  is  no 
longer  moved  so  strongly,  is  no  longer  under  such  subjec- 
tion to  the  emotions,  as  is  implied  in  the  moods  repre- 
sented in  music,  poetry,  and  oratory.  It  implies  that  the 
ideas  are  related  to  the  influence  coming  from  without 
in  the  same  way  as  the  ice  to  the  water,  when,  in  the  illus- 
tration given,  the  former  begins  to  manifest  resistance. 
The  ideas,  no  longer  now  in  the  condition  in  which  one 
uses  poetic  language, — no  longer  swept  along  by  the  cur- 
rent of  influence  in  such  a  way  that  the  movement  of  the 
current  may  be  perceived  in  their  movements — are  recog- 
nized in  consciousness  as  factors  foreign  to  the  influence 
from  without ;  therefore  as  factors  which,  while  they  com- 
pare with  it,  may  be  contrasted  with  it.  Comparison, 
such  as  is  expressed  in  poetic  language,  we  have  found  to 


220  ART  IN   THEORY, 

be  a  result  of  intellect  when  under  the  control  of  the 
emotions.  Contrast  in  addition  to  comparison  is  a  re- 
sult of  intellect — inter  lego — in  those  critical  moods  in 
which  observation  and  judgment  are  able,  partially  at 
least,  to  hold  the  emotions  in  check. 

Let  us  notice  the  bearings  upon  representation  of  this 
difference  between  the  two  moods.  In  the  phase  of  con- 
sciousness represented  in  poetry,  the  man  thinks  of 
certain  scenes  in  the  external  world  because  they  are  sug- 
gested, not  by  anything  that  he  is  actually,  at  the  time, 
perceiving  there,  but  by  his  own  recollections  of  them  as 
they  exist  in  thought.  To  one  likening  his  actions  in  a 
battle  to  that  of  Wellington  at  Waterloo  and  of  Grant  at 
Vicksburg,  these  men  are  not  really  present,  only  ideally 
so.  As  objects  of  thought  they  are  not  outside  of  his 
mind,  they  are  in  it.  In  the  mood  represented  in  paint- 
ing, however,  the  man  thinks  of  external  scenes  because 
they  are  actually  before  him.  He  is  more  clearly  con- 
scious therefore  of  two  different  sources  of  thought — one 
within,  the  other  without.  The  objective  world  is  really 
present.  If  he  wish  to  represent  this  fact,  therefore,  he 
cannot  use  merely  words.  Words  can  contain  only  what 
is  in  the  mind,  or  ideally  present.  In  order  to  represent 
in  any  true  sense  what  is  really  present  he  must  use  what 
is  really  before  him,  i.  e.,  an  indisputably  external  medium, 
as  in  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture. 

A  few  words  ought  to  be  inserted  just  here,  because  so 
distinctly  suggested,  with  reference  to  the  applicability  of 
what  has  just  been  said,  to  poetry.  The  subject  was  first 
discussed,  though  differently  grounded,  by  Lessing  in 
his  "Laocoon";  and  will  be  found  treated  in  Chapters 
XXII.  and  XXIII.  of  *'  Poetry  as  a  Representative  Art." 
Here  it  will  suffice  to  point  out  that,  according  to  the  dis- 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS,        221 

tinctions  just  made,  any  descriptive  details  are  out  of  place 
in  poetry  other  than  those  of  such  prominence  that  a  man 
observing  them  may  reasonably  be  supposed  to  be  able 
to  retain  them  in  memory  ; — other  than  those,  to  state  it 
differently,  which  are  illustrative  in  their  nature,  and  truly 
representative,  therefore,  of  ideas  within  the  mind  as  ex- 
cited to  conscious  activity  by  influences  from  without. 
There  is,  of  course,  a  certain  interest,  though  sometimes 
not  above  that  which  is  merely  botanic  and  topographic, 
awakened  by  minute  descriptions  of  flowers  and  fields 
such  as  a  painter  on  the  spot  would  be  able  to  give  while 
scrutinizing  them  in  order  to  depict  them.  But  this 
interest  may  be  just  as  different  from  that  which,  in  the 
circumstances,  is  aesthetic,  as  it  would  be  were  it  merely 
didactic  or  dogmatic ;  and  a  poet  with  sensibilities  keen 
enough  to  feel  the  differences  between  essentially  differ- 
ent motives  will  be  loath  to  yield  to  the  promptings  of 
that  which  is  essentially  not  poetic.  He  will  refrain  from 
indulging  in  the  kind  of  writing  just  indicated,  not  because 
it  is  too  difficult  for  him  to  master ;  not  because  though 
living  at  the  present  time  he  is  unaware  that  the  prevail- 
ing taste  approves  of  it,  or  that,  if  he  fail  to  follow  its 
whims,  he  will  be  accused  of  having  two  little  love  of 
nature  or  sympathy  with  it ;  but  because  he  wishes  to  be 
true  to  his  art,  as  he  recognizes  that  all  the  greatest 
masters  have  been  ;  and  because  he  knows  that,  when  the 
present  fashion  passes  away,  as  it  surely  will,  only  that 
poetry  will  live  which  is  poetic  in  the  most  distinctive 
sense. 

But  to  return  to  the  subject  more  immediately  under 
consideration,  we  have  noticed  that  in  the  moods  represent- 
ed in  music  and  poetry,  the  mind  is  prompted  to  conceive 
of  the  influence  as  if  it  were  the  same  thing  as  its  own  ideas ; 


222  ART  IN  THEORY, 

that,  in  fact,  the  influence  from  without  is  recognized  in 
consciousness  mainly  because  the  thoughts  move  with  it. 
This  movement,  therefore,  is  appropriately  represented  in 
musical  tones  and  poetic  words  that  follow  one  another 
in  time.  In  the  moods  represented  in  painting,  sculpture, 
and  architecture,  however,  the  mind  is  prompted  to  con- 
ceive of  the  influence  as  separate  and  difi^erent  from  the 
ideas  ;  frequently,  indeed,  as  offering  a  contrast  to  them. 
The  influence  from  without  is  recognized  in  consciousness 
mainly  because,  as  contrasted  with  the  influence,  the 
thoughts  are  relatively,  though  not  absolutely,  stationary. 
Consider  now  how  these  facts  must  be  represented.  If 
one  wish  to  give  expression  to  a  consciousness  of  an  ex- 
ternal source  of  influence  which  is  separate  and  different 
from  the  ideas  within  his  mind,  he  can  do  this  effectively 
only  through  using  an  external  medium  which  alone  is 
clearly  separate  and  different  from  them.  Again,  a  con- 
trast is  always  revealed  most  clearly  when  objects  are 
viewed  not  one  at  a  time,  but  two  or  more  at  a  time.  If 
one  wish,  therefore,  to  represent  a  consciousness  of  con- 
trast, especially  in  connection  with  that  of  a  continuation  of 
a  difference  between  the  external  world  and  his  own  ideas 
of  it,  he  can  best  do  this,  too,  through  using  a  medium  that 
presents  objects  not  in  succession,  like  the  words  of  a 
poem,  but  side  by  side  in  space  like  the  forms  on  the 
canvas  of  a  picture.  And  if  he  wish,  again,  to  repre- 
sent the  fact  that  his  own  ideas,  though  affected  by  the 
influence,  are  not  swept  away  or  onward  by  it ;  but  that 
whatever  effects  are  produced  are  confined  to  suggestions 
prompted  by  the  objects  in  nature  that  continue  to  stand 
immediately  before  him,  he  can  best  represent  this  fact 
too  through  using  a  medium  that  will  stay  thought  like  a 
scene  rather  than  hurry  it  on  like  a  story. 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL    CONDITIONS,         223 

The  art  representing  the  earliest  phase  assumed  by  the 
consciousness  of  an  external  world  as  contrasted  with 
one's  own  ideas,  is  evidently  the  partly  useful  and  seldom 
wholly  ideal  or  aesthetic  art  of  landscape  gardening.  In 
this,  fidelity  to  the  exact  appearances  of  external  nature, 
/.  ^.,  to  the  influence  from  without,  is  a  controlling  princi- 
ple to  a  degree  that  cannot  be  asserted  of  painting,  sculp- 
ture, or  architecture.  In  a  logical  order  of  sequence, 
moreover,  this  art  stands  next  to  poetry  and  oratory. 
These  are  developed  from  a  man's  power  over  himself, 
over  his  own  voice  and  limbs.  The  next  mode  of  exert- 
ing power,  logically  considered,  is  to  touch  something 
outside  of  self,  and  in  doing  this  to  begin  by  handling 
nature  in  a  crude  form,  as  it  is  used  in  landscape  garden- 
ing. Only  later  can  one  come  to  the  canvas,  pigments, 
marbles,  and  woods  used  in  the  plastic  arts.  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  point  out  that,  with  all  the  fidelity  to  nature 
that  must  be  manifest  in  successful  gardening,  every 
feature  revealing  that  it  is  an  art,  is  derived  from  a  con- 
trast, in  spite  of  very  much  also  that  manifests  comparison, 
between  a  field  as  presented  in  nature  and  a  park  as 
planned,  arranged,  and  cultivated.  It  is  in  this  contrast 
between  nature  as  it  is  and  as  it  is  made  to  be,  that  the 
ideas  of  the  artist  assert  their  presence. 

An  analogous  fact  becomes  more  apparent  as  we  pass 
on  to  painting.  "  If  we  suppose  a  view  of  nature,"  says 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  in  his  thirteenth  *'  Discourse  on 
Painting,"  *'  represented  with  all  the  truth  of  the  camera 
obscura,  and  the  same  scene  represented  by  a  great  artist, 
how  little  and  mean  will  the  one  appear  in  comparison 
with  the  other?  "  And  again  :  *' A  higher  and  a  lower 
style  .  .  .  take  their  rank  and  degree  in  proportion 
as  the  artist  departs  more  or  less  from  common  nature, 


224  -^^^  ^^  THEORY, 

and  makes  it  an  object  of  his  attention  to  strike  the  im- 
agination of  the  spectator  by  ways  belonging  especially  to 
art."  Evidently,  according  to  the  view  of  this  writer,  the 
difference  in  painting  between  high  and  ordinary  art,  is 
the  difference  between  what  is  idealized  and  what  is 
merely  imitated.  But  this  difference  is  revealed  in  the 
contrast  between  the  picture  and  nature.  In  passing 
through  the  mediumship  of  the  man,  that  which  came 
from  nature  has  been  changed.  Each  change  has  been 
wrought  by  an  idea,  and  all  the  changes  together  indicate 
a  contrast  between  what  nature  really  is  and  the  artist's 
idea  of  what  it  might  be.  This  principle  of  contrast  as 
an  offset  to  that  which  in  the  main  compares  with  nature, 
underlies,  in  fact,  all  the  idealistic  effects  of  painting. 
For  instance,  there  are  many  unattractive  scenes  and  sub- 
jects in  nature,  and  these  often  lie  side  by  side  with 
attractive  ones.  **  The  Greek  artist,"  says  Lessing  in  his 
"  Laocoon,"  ''  represented  nothing  that  was  not  beautiful. 
.  .  .  The  perfection  of  the  subject  must  charm  in  his 
work."  When  the  modern  artist,  like  the  Greek,  selects 
for  representation  a  certain  part  of  nature,  he  does  so  be- 
cause he  has  contrasted  it,  and  wishes  others  to  contrast 
it,  with  the  whole  of  nature.  When,  again,  in  certain 
parts  of  his  picture,  he  wishes  to  bring  some  objects  into 
the  foreground  and  to  keep  others  in  the  background, 
his  attempt  is  successful  in  the  degree  in  which  light  and 
shade  and  color  are  arranged,  according  to  scientific 
principles  controlling  contrasts,  so  that  the  objects,  as 
they  appear  side  by  side,  shall  be  not  only  separated  with 
the  distinctness  found  in  nature,  but  shall  also  produce 
other  distinctively  complementary  effects  such  as  art 
seems  to  require.  Moreover,  it  is  worth  noticing  too, 
as  according  with  this  principle,  that  the  excellence  of 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.         225 

subjects  as  manifestations  of  ideality  is  measured  by  the 
degree  in  which  they  admit  of  originaHty  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  contrasts.  Hence  a  fruit-piece,  in  which  the 
forms  and  colors  admit  of  little  variation,  ranks  below 
a  landscape  ;  a  landscape,  for  the  same  reason,  below  one 
representing  human  figures;  which  latter,  in  the  details 
both  of  line  and  color  in  posture,  countenance,  and  dress, 
admits  of  variations  almost  infinite. 

The  psychological  difference  between  painting  and  sculp- 
ture, considered  as  modes  of  representation,  is  one  of 
degree  rather  than  of  kind.  Almost  everything,  there- 
fore, that  has  been  said  of  the  former  art,  is  true  of  the 
latter.  This  difference  in  degree,  however,  needs  to  be 
emphasized.  A  statue  is  chiselled  out  of  a  medium  fur- 
nishing more  to  resist  than  do  the  canvas  and  pigments 
used  in  paintings  ;  and  when  completed,  it  resembles 
nature — at  least  this  is  true  of  the  modern  statue — only 
in  form,  and  not  nearly  so  exactly  as  if,  like  paintings  or 
the  ancient  Greek  statues,  it  could  have  the  addition  of 
color.  Both  facts  show  that  in  sculpture,  to  go  back  to 
the  illustration  drawn  from  the  ice  and  the  water,  the  ideas 
within  the  mind  are  offering  more  resistance  to  the  influ- 
ence flowing  from  without.  In  other  words,  this  art  rep- 
resents less  imitation  of  nature  than  the  former  art  and 
more  exercise  of  individuality  and,  in  this  sense,  of  ide- 
ality on  the  part  of  the  artist.  This  is  one  reason  why 
paintings  may  rank  high,  as  is  exemplified  in  fruit-pieces 
and  landscapes,  in  which  the  imitative  element  overbal- 
ances the  ideal ;  whereas  in  sculpture  this  is  seldom  the 
case. 

There  is  another  thing  to  be  noticed  here.  The  empha- 
sis given  to  ideality  in  sculpture  indicates  that  the  ideas 
are  not  only  resisting  the  influences  of  nature  so  far  as  to 


226  ART  IN  THEORY, 

afford  a  contrast  to  them,  but  are  also  getting  the  better 
of  nature.  The  ice  is  beginning  to  stand  disposed  in 
heaps  above  the  water.  Sculpture  represents,  therefore, 
the  indirect  as  well  as  the  direct  effects  of  nature.  To 
illustrate  what  is  meant  by  saying  this,  a  picture  and  a 
statue  may  both  imitate  the  same  model.  When  we  Icok 
at  the  former,  we  instinctively  think  of  the  model.  When 
we  look  at  the  latter,  we  often  think  only  of  the  ef- 
fects that  human  nature  in  general  has  had  upon  form 
in  the  abstract.  While  painting  may  represent  only  a 
person,  sculpture  is  more  likely  to  represent  a  person- 
age. "  Its  object,"  says  Reynolds,  referring  to  sculp- 
ture in  his  tenth  ''  Discourse,"  "  may  be  compressed  into 
two  words,  form  and  character."  This  is  the  same  as  to 
say  that  a  statue  represents  some  general  inference  that 
the  artist  has  drawn  from  nature,  i.  e.y  some  inference  to 
which  his  ideas,  like  the  ice  in  the  illustration,  have  been 
disposed  by  outside  influences.  Just  here,  therefore,  we 
are  getting  away  from  the  representation  of  pure  intel- 
lect, whether  impelled  by  emotion,  as  in  poetry,  or  im- 
peding it,  as  in  painting.  We  are  where  one  must  represent 
rather  the  disposition  of  the  ideas  by  the  artist's  own 
will  in  connection  with  that  condition  in  which  the  mind, 
while  still  subject  to  the  influence  that  stirs  the  emo- 
tions, is  least  subject  to  it. 

The  works  of  the  landscape  gardener  resemble  nature 
in  almost  every  feature  ;  those  of  the  painter,  in  color  and 
outline ;  those  of  the  sculptor,  in  outline  only.  One 
step  beyond  this  evidently  must  carry  us  to  architecture. 
Here  the  products  resemble  nature,  not  even  in  outline, 
except  as  it  may  be  broken  up  and  arranged  anew.  The 
painter  and  the  sculptor  observe  nature  for  the  purpose  of 
copying  its  forms  ;  the  architect,  for  the  purpose  of  com- 


DEVELOPMENT  BY  MENTAL   CONDITIONS.         22/ 

pounding  a  new  and  different  form,  for  which,  as  a  whole, 
nature  furnishes  no  copy.  In  his  work  the  contrast  be- 
tween the  product  and  nature  is  often  so  complete  that 
the  one  no  longer,  as  in  the  case  of  painting,  necessarily 
suggests  the  other.  Although  the  shapes  of  the  founda- 
tions, pillars,  capitals,  arches,  roofs,  chimneys,  or  towers 
of  a  building  may  suggest  reminiscences  of  nature,  they 
are  constructed  almost  invariably  as  if  the  architect  had 
forgotten  what  was  the  particular  appearance  of  anything 
that  had  inspired  his  forms.  He  is  influenced  somewhat 
by  nature,  but  much  more  by  his  own  mind,  which 
works  with  the  least  possible  artistic  regard  for  nature's 
dispositions  of  the  forms  that  he  uses.  If  these  forms 
are  beautiful,  it  is  less  because  they  are  the  same  in  detail 
as  those  found  in  nature,  than  because  they  are  the  same 
in  principle,  because  they  are  controlled  by  the  same 
general  laws  that  underlie  all  appearances  and  combina- 
tions  of  them  that  are  naturally  pleasing. 

In  this  regard,  in  its  lack  of  the  imitative  element,  and 
therefore  in  having  forms  that  recall  nature  more  by  way 
of  association  than  of  comparison,  architecture  resembles 
music.  Madame  de  Stael  termed  it  "  frozen  music  ** ; 
and  with  our  present  view  of  the  subject,  we  may  per- 
ceive the  appropriateness  of  her  metaphor.  In  music, 
the  influence  coming  from  without  moves  so  rapidly 
and  freely  that,  as  contrasted  with  it,  the  mind  is  hardly 
conscious  of  its  own  ideas.  In  architecture,  on  the  con- 
trary, this  influence  seems  so  slight  that  of  it  the  mind  is 
hardly  conscious.  That  which  flows  in  the  one  art  may 
be  said  to  be  congealed  in  the  other,  and  the  artistic  rep- 
resentation of  each  state  of  consciousness  evinces  this. 
The  medium  of  music  moves  ;  that  of  architecture  stands. 
Because  of  the  lack  of  balance  in  both  arts  between  the 


228  AR7'  IN   THEORY. 

consciousness  of  the  influence  from  without  and  that  of 
the  ideas  within,  the  connection  between  influence  and 
ideas  is  not,  in  either  art,  always  apparent.  Many,  in 
fact,  fancy  that  music  represents  no  ideas,  and  architecture 
no  influences  derived  from  the  forms  of  nature.  But  the 
truth  is  that,  without  both  arts,  the  representations  of  the 
different  phases  of  consciousness,  developing,  one  after  an- 
other, as  has  been  shown,  would  be  incomplete.  The  two 
arts  are  expressive  respectively  of  the  two  extremes  of 
this, — of  those  misty  border  lands  of  apprehension  where 
external  influence  appears  and  where  it  disappears. 

Between  these  two  extremes,  the  motive  from  without 
and  the  ideas  within  are  more  evenly  balanced.  The 
effect  in  the  intellect  (inter  and  lego)  as  jointly  influenced 
by  both,  leads,  when  the  consciousness  of  the  motive 
swaying  ideas  through  emotion  is  the  stronger,  to  compar- 
ison, tending,  as  in  poetry  and  oratory,  to  identifying 
the  two  ;  and,  when  the  consciousness  of  possessing  ideas 
foreign  to  that  which  is  swaying  them  is  the  stronger, 
to  comparison  also,  but  with  more  realization  of  a  contrast 
between  the  two,  as  is  the  case  in  landscape  gardening, 
painting,  and  sculpture. 

Taken  together,  the  arts  that  have  been  mentioned 
represent  every  possible  effect  produced  in  the  mind 
as  emotions,  intellect,  and  will  successively  receive  and 
modify  the  influence  that  the  audible  or  visible  forms 
of  nature  exert  upon  it.  The  expressional  series  is 
complete  all  the  way  from  where,  in  music,  we  heed  the 
roaring  of  the  waves  of  influence  as  they  dash  upon 
apprehension,  to  where,  in  architecture,  we  perceive  the 
spray  that  congeals  in  fairy  shapes  above  the  place  where 
their  force  has  been  spent. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

FURTHER   CONDITIONS    UNDERLYING    THE    REPRESENTA- 
TION  OF   THOUGHT   IN   EACH    OF  THE   ARTS. 

Further  Conditions  from  which  to  Draw  Inferences  with  Reference  to 
the  Particular  Form  of  the  Mode  of  Representation — Recapitula- 
tion— Association — Comparison  and  Contrast  as  Related  to  the 
Work  of  Imagination — Audible  Expression  as  Representative  of  the 
Instinctive  Tendency — Development  of  this  in  Music  and  Poetry — 
Visible  Expression  as  Developed  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architec- 
ture Representative  of  the  Reflective  Tendency — Methods  in  Art-Com- 
position Confirming  these  Statements — Instinctive  and  Reflective 
Tendencies  both  Present  together  in  all  Art  that  is  Emotive,  or 
Manifests  Soul — Something  both  of  the  Instinctive  and  Reflective  must 
be  Represented  in  each  Art — Music  as  Subjective,  Poetry,  Painting, 
and  Sculpture  as  Relative,  and  Architecture  as  Subjective — All  the 
Highest  Art  is  both  Subjective  and  Relative,  i.  e.,  Objective — Bearing 
of  what  has  been  Said  upon  Form  in  each  Art — Sustained  Sounds  are 
Instinctively  Subjective  and  Spontaneous ;  Unsustained  Sounds  are 
Instinctively  Relative  and  Responsive — Both  Forms  of  Sound  as 
Developed  respectively  in  Music  and  Poetry — No  other  Fundamental 
Difference  between  these  Forms — Order  and  Relation  of  the  Develop- 
ment of  these  Forms  of  Sound — Same  Principles  Applied  to  the  Arts  of 
Sight — Sustained  Action  is  reflectively  Subjective  and  Spontaneous ; 
Unsustained  Action  is  reflectively  Relative  and  Responsive — Each 
Method  of  Action  as  Developed  respectively  in  Architecture  and  in 
Painting  and  Sculpture — Analogies  between  Architecture  and  Music — 
Between  Poetry,  Painting,  and  Sculpture — Recapitulation  and  Summary 
— Conclusion. 

A  FEW  more  considerations  in  addition  to  those  men- 
tioned in  Chapter  XIX.  may  enable  us  to  draw  in- 
ferences, not  only,  as  has  been  done  already,  with  reference 
to  the  general  character  of  the  thought  represented  in 
each  art,  but  also  with  reference  to  the  particular  form  of 
its  mode  of  representation. 

We  have  found  that  the  inarticulate  sounds  used   in 

229 


330  ART  IN    THEORY. 

music  express  ideas  indistinctly  mainly  by  way  of  asso- 
ciation ;  that  the  articulated  sounds  of  poetry  express 
ideas  distinctly  mainly  by  way  of  comparison ;  that  the 
exact  reproduction  of  natural  forms  in  painting  and 
sculpture  express  ideas  distinctly — ideas,  notice,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  that  which  they  imitate — mainly  by  way 
of  contrast,  and  that  the  vague  reproductions  of  natural 
forms  in  architecture,  just  as  in  the  case  of  music,  express 
ideas  indistinctly  mainly  by  way  of  association. 

It  may  be  well,  here,  to  repeat  what,  as  it  was  said  in 
Chapter  XIX.,  need  not  again  be  explained,  namely. 
that,  in  principle,  association  is  closely  allied  to  com- 
parison ;  and  also  to  elaborate  a  little  what  was  said  there 
with  reference  to  the  connection  between  comparison  and 
contrast.  The  fact  is  that  we  do  not  know  that  contrast 
exists,  except  so  far  as  we  have  thought,  at  least,  of  com- 
parison. It  is  the  effort  of  what  we  term  the  imagination — 
the  effort  to  find  in  one  phenomenon  the  image  of  an- 
other, or  to  find  one  like  another — that  leads  the  mind  to 
compare,  and  then,  if  it  cannot  do  this,  to  contrast  the 
two.  In  such  cases,  therefore,  the  imagination  is  the 
underlying  faculty  of  mind  called  into  exercise,  comparison 
the  primary  method  in  which  it  exercises  itself,  and  con- 
trast the  secondary.  As  applied  to  art,  the  primary  posi- 
tion of  comparison  is  still  further  augmented  by  the  fact 
that  art-products  always  spring  from  efforts  to  connect  mo- 
tives and  ideas,  and  to  embody  both  in  a  single  form.  The 
result  is  that  while  the  phases  of  consciousness  represented 
in  the  arts  of  sound  begin,  as  it  were,  with  comparison,  the 
forms  that  are  produced  in  these  arts,  including,  as  they 
necessarily  do,  many  things  that  are  not  alike,  involve  also 
a  consciousness  and  a  representation  of  contrast.  The 
converse  is  also  true,  that  while  the  phases  of  consciousness 


FURTHER  CONDITIONS,  23 1 

represented  in  the  arts  of  sight  begin  with  contrast,  the 
production  of  a  form  which  shall  be  true  to  the  appear- 
ances, or,  as  in  architecture,  to  the  formative  principles  of 
nature,  necessarily  involves,  also,  the  consciousness  and 
representation  of  comparison.  Only  in  the  exercise  of 
comparison  and  contrast  together  is  the  work  of  imagina- 
tion, which  is  the  faculty  underlying  all  the  developments 
of  art,  complete. 

It  was  intimated  in  the  last  chapter  also,  that  the  prim- 
itive method  of  representing  in  inarticulate  sounds  those 
early  effects  upon  consciousness  in  which  the  ideas  within 
the  mind  and  the  influences  from  without  are  not  clearly 
distinguishable,  is  analogous  to  that  instinctive,  as  distin- 
guished from  reflective,  action  which  characterizes  the 
lower  animals.  A  child,  when  frightened,  or  any  one  be- 
fore he  has  time  for  definite  thought  or  reflection,  utters 
an  inarticulate  cry ;  and  this  method  of  expression  is  clearly 
analogous  to  the  inarticulate  growling,  barking,  howling, 
chirping,  singing,  of  beasts  and  birds.  If  these  had  clearly 
defined  thoughts  like  those  of  men,  would  they  not  use 
articulated  words?  They  do  not  use  words,  and  accord- 
ingly we  attribute  their  expressions  to  what  we  term  in- 
stinct as  distinguished  from  reason.  Similar  modes  of 
expression  on  the  part  of  men  may  be  termed  instinctive, 
rather  than  reflective. 

According  to  this  explanation,  music,  being  a  develop- 
ment of  inarticulate  and  indefinitely  representative  sounds, 
is  almost  wholly  instinctive.  Poetry,  however,  deals  with 
words  having  a  definite  significance ;  and  so  far  as  it  does 
this,  it  represents  not  instinct,  but  a  clear  conception  of 
what  is  experienced  from  the  outside,  and  is  therefore  the 
result  of  reflection.  But  poetic  effects  are  also  due  in  part 
to  the  same  causes  as  effects  in  music.     This  is  true  of 


232  ART  IN  THEORY, 

the  intonations  and  inflections  resulting  from  metre  and 
versification  which  together  produce  what  are  called  the 
tunes  of  verse.  So  far  as  these  are  concerned,  poetry  is 
also  instinctive. 

When  we  pass  on  to  the  methods  of  representing 
effects  in  the  arrangements  of  visible  forms,  we  find  re- 
sults of  reflection  as  awakened  by  external  scenes  which, 
if  possible,  are  still  further  removed  from  the  instinctive 
actions  of  the  animals  than  are  words.  What  is  there 
produced  by  an  animal  showing  the  same  kind  of  thought 
and  discrimination,  and  in  this  sense  reflection  with  ref- 
erence to  them,  which  characterizes  the  reproduction  of 
forms  in  painting  and  sculpture?  There  is  a  kind  of  visi- 
ble imitation,  indeed,  which  is  almost  exclusively  instinc- 
tive. We  find  it  in  dramatic  pantomime,  and  there  is  an 
analogue  to  this  in  the  mimickry  of  the  ape.  We  find 
visible  imitation  in  external  products,  also,  like  imple- 
ments, dresses,  and  dwellings,  and  there  are  analogues  to 
this  too  in  the  dens  and  nests  constructed  by  beasts  and 
birds.  But,  in  general,  all  must  acknowledge  that  the 
purely  aesthetic  part  of  building,  that  which  renders  it  a 
fine  art,  is  due  to  an  amount  of  reflection  that  is  clearly 
above  and  beyond  the  mere  end  of  utility  reached  by  the 
instinctive  processes  of  the  lower  animals. 

In  order  to  show  the  truth  of  what  has  been  said,  we 
may  put  it  in  another  form.  Instinctive  processes  on  the 
part  of  men  are  those  which  are  conducted  according  to 
unconscious  methods,  and  are  analogous,  for  this  reason, 
to  the  results  of  the  promptings  of  instinct  in  the  lower 
animals.  Applying  this  test  to  music  and  poetry,  we  can 
perceive  in  what  sense  they  may  be  attributed  to  the  in- 
stinctive tendency.  The  best  melodies  and  verses  sing 
themselves  into  existence.     The  musician  or  poet  hardly 


FURTHER   CONDITIONS,  233 

knows  how  or  whence  they  come.  In  producing  paint- 
ings, statues,  and  buildings,  however,  the  mind  is  more 
successful  when  it  works  reflectively,  by  which  is  meant 
according  to  the  conscious  and  calculating  methods  of 
reason.  A  statue  and  a  building  are  produced  slowly  and 
with  a  clear  conception  of  design. 

At  the  same  time  it  is  important  to  remember  that 
neither  the  instinctive  nor  the  reflective  tendency  alone  is 
sufficient  to  bring  all  that  there  is  in  a  man  to  bear  upon  his 
product.  As  is  shown  in  Chapter  I.,  page  12,  of  "  Poe- 
try as  a  Representative  Art,"  it  is  when  the  results  of 
reflection  are  added  to  those  of  instinct,  or  of  instinct 
to  those  of  reflection  ;  when,  therefore,  neither  one  of 
these  elements  alone  is  present,  but  both  together, — it  is 
then  that  we  have  in  the  product  an  illustration  of  what, 
in  distinction  from  either  instinctive  or  reflective,  we  may 
term  an  emotive  influence.  A  man,  for  instance,  may  eat 
and  sleep  like  an  animal,  instinctively,  or  he  may  think  and 
talk  reflectively,  without  giving  any  expression  to  what 
we  mean  by  emotion.  But  as  soon  as  he  thinks  and  talks 
in  connection  with  eating  and  sleeping,  as  is  the  case  with 
a  caterer  or  upholsterer,  an  hotel  keeper  or  a  house-wife ; 
or  as  soon  as  his  instincts  prompt  and  accentuate  his 
thinking  and  talking,  as  is  the  case  with  an  actor  or  a  good 
story-teller,  then,  as  a  result  of  instinct  made  thoughtful, 
or  of  thought  made  instinctive,  he  begins  to  manifest  his 
emotive  nature  ;  and  the  character  of  his  emotion  is  repre- 
sented by  the  degree  in  which  the  one  or  the  other  of  the 
two  tendencies — instinct  or  thought — is  in  excess.  It  may 
be  interesting  to  point  out  also  that,  according  to  ordinary 
conceptions,  the  power  which  blends  or  balances  the  in- 
stinctive or  physical  and  the  reflective  or  mental,  is  the 
soul,  holding  body  and  mind   together,  influencing  and 


234  -^^^  I^   THEORY, 

influenced  by  both;  and  also  that,  according  to  ordinary 
conceptions,  it  is  the  same  thing  to  put  emotion  into  ex- 
pressions and  to  put  ^f??//into  them.  Neither  can  be  mani- 
fested in  them  unless  they  represent  a  blended  result  both 
of  nerve  and  of  thought,  of  instinct  and  of  reflection. 

In  accordance  with  this,  it  is  evident  that  music  and 
poetry,  which  are  naturally  instinctive,  come  to  manifest 
soul  in  the  degree  in  which  they  embody  also,  kept  of 
course  in  due  subordination,  something  of  the  reflective; 
and  that  the  naturally  reflective  products  of  the  other  arts 
acquire  the  same  effect  in  the  degree  in  which,  in  the 
same  way,  they  embody  something  of   the  instinctive. 

In  preparation  for  what  is  to  follow,  it  needs  to  be 
pointed  out  also  that,  while  the  influence  from  without  is 
so  strong  in  the  musician  and  occasionally  in  the  poet,  as 
sometimes  to  seem  to  carry  one  out  of  himself,  it  is 
wholly  experienced  within.  Being  for  this  reason  con- 
sciously attributable  to  an  internal  cause,  it  may  be  termed 
subjective.  Almost  always,  however,  in  poetry,  as  in  the 
case  of  a  story  that  one  has  heard,  and  wishes  to  tell ; 
and  in  painting  and  sculpture,  as  in  the  case  of  a  landscape 
or  human  figure  that  one  has  seen  and  wishes  to  repro- 
duce, the  influence  is  clearly  recognized  as  coming  from 
something  without  the  artist  and  distinct  from  him,  yet, 
at  the  same  time,  as  something  with  which  ideas,  attribu- 
table only  to  himself  as  their  source,  are  busied.  This  is 
the  same  as  to  say  that  he  is  affected  by  something  not 
exclusively  subjective  nor  objective,  but  what  we  may 
term  relative.  He  is  thinking  his  own  thoughts  with  ref- 
erence to  objects  to  which  he  is  related.  When  we  come 
to  architecture,  however,  the  consciousness  of  the  influ- 
ence exerted  from  without  is  lessened.  In  the  absence 
in  it  of  direct  imitations  of  nature,  and  in  the  presence  of 


FURTHER  CONDITIONS.  ^3$ 

a  desire  to  construct  something  exclusively  of  one's  own 
devising,  it  resembles  music,  and,  like  it,  may  be  termed 
subjective. 

The  most  successful  art,  however,  is  that  which  pro- 
duces the  most  effect,  and  nothing  can  be  effective  unless 
it  is  to  some  extent  objective, — in  other  words,  unless  it 
is  constructed  in  such  a  way  as  to  influence  those  outside 
of  oneself.  In  the  degree  in  which  an  artist's  motive  is 
purely  subjective,  he  will  neglect  what  is  necessary  for 
producing  an  effect  upon  others.  And  the  same  is  true  in 
the  degree  in  which  his  motive  is  purely  relative.  He 
will  merely  copy  his  surroundings  without  putting  enough 
of  himself  into  his  work.  It  is  when  the  subjective  passes 
out  to  objectify  itself  in  the  relative,  because  the  relative 
is  recognized  as  something  not  merely  existing,  but  ex- 
citing thought  to  activity,  that  we  have  the  most  favorable 
conditions  for  artistic  success. 

A  very  important  bearing  of  what  has  occupied  us  thus 
far  in  this  chapter  has  yet  to  be  indicated.  Music  and 
poetry  have  been  said  to  be,  in  whole  or  in  part,  expres- 
sions of  the  instinctive  tendency, — music  the  subjective 
form  of  this,  and  poetry  the  relative.  Now  if  we  will 
consider  for  a  moment  the  different  circumstances  in  which 
each  of  these  arts  is  developed,  we  shall  find  facts  which 
confirm  these  statements.  When  a  man,  or  any  living 
creature,  gives  vocal  expression  to  that  which  actuates 
him,  there  are  two  distinct  forms  which  this  may  assume, 
both  of  which,  however,  all  creatures  cannot  always  pro- 
duce. The  sounds  may  be  either  sustained  or  unsustained. 
A  dog,  for  instance,  howls,  and  also  barks  ;  a  cat  purrs  and 
also  mews — the  latter  in  both  a  sustained  and  an  unsus- 
tained way  ;  a  bird  warbles  and  also  chirps  ;  a  man  sings 
and  also  talks.     If  these  forms  be  at  all  representative,  the 


236  ART  IN   THEORY. 

sustained  sounds  must  represent  something  sustained,  and 
the  others  something  not  sustained.  As  a  rule,  an  internal 
process  is  continued  or  sustained  because  it  is  not  inter- 
rupted. As  a  rule,  too,  that  which  interrupts  is  external 
to  the  thoughts  and  feelings  in  which  this  process  is  going 
on.  Interrupt  the  creature  producing  the  sustained 
sounds, — go  out  at  night  and  speak  to  your  howling  dog, 
take  the  milk  from  a  purring  cat,  the  nest  from  a  warbling 
bird,  or  the  plaything  from  a  singing  child,  and  at  once 
you  will  hear  sounds  of  the  other  form, — barking,  mewing, 
chirping,  and  scolding  in  words.  We  may  say,  therefore, 
that  the  sustained  form  is  mainly  subjective,  or  spontane- 
ous, and  that  the  unsustained  form  is  mainly  relative  or 
responsive.  Birds  and  men  instinctively  sing  to  meet 
demands  that  come  from  within  ;  they  instinctively  chirp 
and  talk  to  meet  those  that  come  from  without.  The 
sounds  of  the  first  continue  as  long  as  their  producer 
wishes  to  have  them,  those  of  the  second  are  checked  as 
soon  as  they  have  accomplished  their  outside  purpose, 
and  are  continued  only  by  way  of  reiteration  or  change, 
in  order  to  suit  the  changing  effects  that  they  are  per- 
ceived to  have  upon  the  creatures  or  persons  toward 
whom  they  are  directed.  The  first  form  need  not  convey 
any  definite  intelligence,  because  there  is  no  intrinsic 
necessity  that  anybody  should  understand  it ;  the  second 
must  convey  definite  intelligence,  because  this  is  its 
object. 

These  two  conditions  respectively  correspond  exactly, 
as  will  be  observed,  to  those  underlying  effects  in  music 
and  in  poetry.  Music  is  often  said  to  represent  the  feel- 
ings. It  really  represents  only  certain  classes  of  sustained 
and  subjective  feelings,  joyous  or  sad,  to  which  there  is  no 
outside  or  objective  reason  for  giving  definite  or  intelli- 


FURTHER   CONDITIONS.  237 

gible  expression.  The  moment  feelings  need  to  be 
definitely  communicated,  as  in  cases  of  outside  emergency 
of  an  ordinary  character,  or  of  those  exciting  one  to  ex- 
traordinary petulance  or  rage,  then  the  dog  barks,  the 
bird  chirps,  and  the  man,  in  order  to  make  himself  dis- 
tinctly understood,  uses  his  throat,  tongue,  and  lips  in  the 
various  ways  that  cause  the  distinct  articulation  which 
characterizes  words. 

Here  then,  in  the  lowest  and  most  elementary  forms  of 
vocal  representation,  we  find  that  which  separates  musical 
notes  from  talking  tones.  And  the  difference  indicated 
is  the  only  one  that  does  separate  them.  All  the 
other  distinctions  that  can  be  made  between  sounds, 
characterize  alike  those  of  song  and  of  speech.  Sounds 
differ  in  time,  force,  pitch,  and  quality.  According  to  the 
first,  one  sound  may  have  more  duration  than  another. 
Artistically  developed,  in  connection  with  force,  this 
difference  leads  to  rhythm.  But  there  is  rhythm  in  poe- 
try as  well  as  in  music.  According  to  the  second,  one 
sound  may  be  louder  than  another.  But  this  kind  of 
emphasis  is  as  common  in  conversation  as  in  chanting. 
According  to  the  third,  one  sound  may  be  higher  in  the 
musical  scale  than  another.  Artistically  developed,  this 
leads  to  tune.  But  the  voice  rises  and  falls  in  speaking 
as  well  as  in  singing.  According  to  the  fourth,  one  sound 
is  more  sweet  and  resonant  than  another.  But  the  dif- 
ferences between  pure,  orotund,  guttural,  pectoral,  and 
aspirated  tones,  are  as  decided  as  are  those  between  the 
tones  in  different  parts  in  singing  and  between  the  char- 
acters of  the  sounds  produced  by  different  musical  instru- 
ments. 

When  we  come  to  use  the  word  sustained,  however,  we 
^an  say  that  in  music  a  tone  is  sustained  in  time  with  a 


238  ART  IN  THEORY. 

degree  of  force  at  one  pitch  and  with  one  kind  of  quality, 
in  a  sense  that  is  not  true  as  applied  to  speaking.  We 
may  use  articulated  words  in  a  song,  yet  there  is  a  radical 
difference  between  singing  them  and  talking  them.  By 
noticing  this  difference  we  may  get  rid  of  the  necessity  of 
discussing  the  question  whether  the  methods  of  singing 
were  developed  from  those  of  speech  or  vice  versa.  At 
the  same  time  there  is  much  truth  back  of  the  theories 
of  writers  like  Herbert  Spencer  in  his  "  Essay  on  the  Origin 
and  Functions  of  Music,"  and  the  Abb6  Du  Bos  in  his 
*'  Reflexions  Critiques  sur  la  Po^sie  et  la  Peinture,"  who 
maintain  that  the  forms  of  music  are  merely  modifications 
of  the  forms  of  speech.  Undoubtedly  the  greater  defi- 
niteness  and  utility  of  the  unsustained  tones  would  lead 
to  their  development  into  speech  earlier  in  the  order  of 
time  than  sustained  tones  would  be  developed  into  any- 
thing resembling  an  art  of  music.  Not  only  so,  but  the 
intonations  of  speech,  because  used  earlier  in  the  order  of 
time,  would  naturally  exert,  as  these  writers  maintain,  a 
very  marked  influence  upon  the  tones  used  in  singing. 
(See  '*  Poetry  as  a  Representative  Art,"  Chapter  II.) 

Now  let  us  pass  on  to  consider  the  bearings  of  similar 
distinctions  upon  the  forms  of  painting,  sculpture,  and 
architecture.  These  have  been  said  to  be,  in  whole  or  in 
part,  expressive  of  the  reflective  tendency,  architecture — 
to  change  for  a  little  the  order  of  our  consideration  of  the 
arts,  so  as  to  make  what  is  to  be  said  conform  to  the  order 
of  thought  followed  in  the  last  paragraph — being  the  sub- 
jective form  of  this  tendency,  and  painting  and  sculpture 
the  relative  forms.  These  statements  too  we  shall  now 
find  to  be  confirmed  by  acknowledged  facts. 

As  of  audible  so  of  visible  expression,  there  are  two 
distinct  types ;  and,  as  in  the  case  of  the  former,  these 


FURTHER   CONDITIONS,  239 

two  may  be  described,  in  a  general  way,  as  those  which 
are  sustained  or  spontaneous,  and  those  which  are  unsus- 
tained  or  responsive.  We  see  the  former  when  a  man  is 
working  persistently,  unconscious,  for  the  time  being,  of 
anything  but  a  desire  to  carry  out  designs  of  his  own. 
We  see  the  latter  when  he  is  conscious  of  the  presence  of 
persons  or  objects  surrounding  him  which  cause  him  to 
accommodate  his  own  desires  and  designs  to  them.  His 
actions,  in  the  spontaneous  form,  represent  in  an  indefinite 
way  that  which  is  going  on  in  his  mind  ;  in  the  responsive 
form,  they  represent  the  same  in  a  definite  way  ;  but  in  both 
there  is  a  true  sense  in  which  they  represent  it.  A  deaf 
man  can  learn  something  about  others  whom  he  watches 
working  absent-mindedly  by  themselves  ;  but  he  can  learn 
more  about  them  when  he  sees  them  talking  or  working 
in  connection  with  a  conscious  and  practical  application 
of  their  actions  to  outside  emergencies. 

If,  now,  we  look  for  external  products  embodying  these 
two  kinds  of  mental  processes,  as  expressed  through  these 
two  kinds  of  bodily  movements, — in  other  words,  if  we 
eliminate  the  presence  of  the  man  from  these  movements, 
just  as  we  do  from  sounds  and  words  after  they  have 
passed  into  music  and  poetry,  what  do  we  have  left? 
Certain  products  so  constructed  that  they  reveal  the  occa- 
sioning processes,  in  the  one  case,  of  thought  or  design 
springing  from  the  man's  own  mind ;  and  in  the  other,  of 
those  awakened  in  his  mind  in  view  of  persons  or  objects 
surrounding  him.  The  first  class  of  products,  in  their 
ultimate  development,  lead  to  architecture ;  the  second  to 
sculpture  and  painting.  A  moment's  thought  will  make 
this  plain.  Working  in  such  a  way  that  the  product  will 
reveal  mainly  the  occasioning  processes  of  thought  or  de- 
sign, a  man  may  have  merely  plowed  a  field  or  constructed 


240  ART  IN  THEORY, 

a  box.  But  the  way  in  which  he  has  done  this,  to  some 
extent,  represents  him.  If,  in  addition  to  what  is  useful, 
he  has  produced  what  is  ornamental,  if  he  has  laid  out  a 
flower  garden  or  carved  the  lid  of  a  box,  then  his  product 
represents  him  still  more, — shows  something  about  his 
nature,  tastes,  feelings,  and  susceptibilities  for  sentiment. 

In  fact,  at  times  the  product  definitely  reveals  just  what 
his  thoughts  and  feelings  have  been.  In  revealing  these 
it  does  precisely  what  is  required  in  fine  art.  But,  as  we 
have  seen,  it  cannot  enter  this  sphere  of  art  unless  it 
represent  both  man  and  nature.  Implements  and  ma- 
chines, and,  in  general,  all  the  products  of  the  technic 
arts,  as  was  shown  in  Chapter  IL,  represent  man ;  and 
many  inferior  products  of  the  ornamental  arts  represent 
nature.  Landscape  gardening  undoubtedly  does  both ; 
but  its  forms  are  so  easy  comparatively  to  produce,  and 
their  abiHty  to  express  thought  is  so  limited,  as  to  render 
doubtful  (see  Chapter  IX.)  whether  they  should  be  classed 
with  the  higher  arts.  But  all  the  conditions  necessary 
for  these  seem  to  be  present  in  architecture. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  notice  here,  again,  the  analogy 
between  the  latter  and  music.  Both  arts,  as  will  be  re- 
called, are  developed  from  that  subjective  or  spontaneous 
stAte  in  which  a  man's  consciousness  of  the  two  sources 
of  influence — the  one  from  without  and  the  other  from 
within — is  reduced  to  its  minimum.  From  this,  two  facts 
follow ;  in  both  arts  there  is,  to  begin  with,  less  conscious 
imitation  of  sounds  or  sights  than  in  other  arts,  and  in 
both,  the  forms,  after  being  developed  in  part,  con- 
tinue to  be  developed,  to  a  degree  not  true  in  the  other 
arts,  according  to  an  inward  law  of  their  own.  Given 
a  few  notes  of  music  representing  a  mood  of  mind 
as  indicated  by  a  song  of  nature,  and  using  them  as  a 


FURTHER   CONDITIONS,  24I 

theme,  the  musician  will  go  on  to  compose  a  whole  sym- 
phony to  correspond  with  them.  So,  given  a  few  out- 
lines of  windows,  doors,  or  roofs,  and  the  architect  will 
go  on  to  construct  a  whole  building  to  correspond  with 
these. 

The  arts  of  sight  which  reveal  the  processes  of  thought 
or  design  awakened  in  the  mind  in  view  of  persons  or 
objects  surrounding  one  are,  of  course,  painting  and 
sculpture.  These  sometimes  reproduce  the  forms  of 
single  men,  expressing  ideas  in  countenance  and  posture, 
sometimes  of  groups  of  men  exerting  certain  effects  upon 
one  another,  sometimes  of  men  in  connection  with  the 
forms  of  birds,  or  animals,  or  fishes,  or  inanimate  nature, 
and  sometimes  of  only  one  of  the  latter  of  these.  But 
whatever  is  reproduced,  it  is  as  evident  as  an  axiom  that 
there  is  no  possible  way  of  a  man's  representing  the  fact 
that  he  is  definitely  conscious  of  the  influence  which  cer- 
tain outside  objects  have  had  upon  his  mind  except  by  his 
referring  to  them.  In  poetry  he  would  do  so  through 
means  of  sounds — articulating  words.  In  the  arts  ap- 
pealing to  sight,  he  must  portray  them  as  in  pictures  or 
statues. 

Before  bringing  this  volume  to  a  close,  it  may  be  well  to 
make  a  brief  summary  of  some  of  its  conclusions,  with 
special  reference  to  those  of  the  last  five  chapters.  In 
doing  so,  in  order  to  indicate  the  relations  of  our  subject 
to  the  whole  domain  of  thought  it  may  be  best — without 
entering  upon  explanations  appropriate  only  in  another 
place — to  start,  as  do  most  of  our  philosophers,  with  cer- 
tain acknowledged  propositions  like  the  following :  That 
time  and  space  are  conditions  enabling  us  to  apprehend 
the  general  phenomena  of  existence ;    that  of  the  latter 

we    recognize   movement  in   time  and  matter   in   space, 
16 


242 


AUT  IN   THEORY. 


and  that  movement  and  matter  when  together  enable  us 
to  apprehend  force ;  that  force  applied  to  the  movement 
enables  us  to  apprehend  operation^  and,  applied  to  the 
matter^  to  apprehend  arrangement ;  that  operation  and 
arrangement  together  suggest  methods  of  operation,  and 
that  methods  in  which  operation  is  chiefly  manifested  sug- 
gest life,  and  in  which  arrangement  is  chiefly  manifested 
suggest  organism  ;  that  life  and  organism  together  suggest 
import,  which  import,  if  conveyed  through  time,  movement^ 
operation,  and  life,  finds  vent  chiefly  in  audible  expression, 
and  if  conveyed  through  space,  matter,  arrangement,  and 
organism,  finds  vent  chiefly  in  visible  expression,  and  that 
audible  and  visible  expression  together  complete  the  possi- 
bilities of  what  may  be  termed  significant  expression. 
These  propositions  may  be  summarized  thus: 


Time.  Movement. 

Space.  Matter. 

Existence.        Force. 


Operation. 
Arrangement. 
Method  of  Operation. 


Life.  Audible  Expression. 

Organism.      Visible  Expression. 
Import.  Significant  Expression 


The  following  need  no  further  explanations  than  have 
already  been  given,  mainly  in  Chapters  II.,  IX.,  and  XVI. 
to  XX. 

THE  ARTS  AS  DEVELOPED  IN  FORM. 


Audible 

(  Singing. 

Elocution. 

Music. 

'  Oratory. 

expression. 

(  Talking. 

Poetry. 

Pantomime, 

Rhetoric. 

r  Gesturing. 
1 

dancing,  etc. 

- 

Painting. 

^  Penmanship. 

Visible  ^ 

Drawing. 

'Personal 

Draftsman- 

adornment. 

Sculpture. 

ship. 

expression. 

Carving. 

Decoration, 

Transport, 

- 

furnishing, 

ships,  cars, 

etc. 

Architecture. 

etc. 

^Constructing 

Landscape    . 
^  gardening. 

Civil  En- 
gineering. 

Significant 

Dramatic 

Higher   Rep- 

Higher Arts 

expression. 

Art. 

representa- 
tion. 

resentative 
Arts. 

applied. 

FURTHER  CONDITIONS, 


243 


THE  ARTS  AS  DEVELOPED  IN  EXPRESSION. 


FORM. 


SOURCE. 


Music.  f  Association 


I    passing  into 
[  Comparison. 

{Comparison 
passing  into 
Contrast. 


Poetry. 

Painting. 

Sculpture. 

!  Association 
passing  into 
Comparison. 

The  Higher       Imagination. 
Arts. 


PROCESS. 

Instinctive 
passing  into 

L  Reflective. 

r  Reflective 

(^  Instinctive. 
Emotive. 


MOTIVE, 

METHOD, AND 

MANNER. 


{Subjective,       f  Suggestive 
Spontaneous,    I    more    than 
,  Sustained.       J  Imitative. 


Relative. 


I  Responsive.     - 

[Un  sustained. 
i  Subjective. 
•<  Spontaneous. 
(  Sustained. 

Objective. 


Imitative 
more    than 
(  Suggestive. 

Suggestive 
more    than 
Imitative. 

Representa- 
tive. 


Our  discussion  has  now  reached  a  point  from  which  we 
can  advance  further  only  by  taking  up  the  different  arts, 
one  after  another,  and  showing  how  the  principles  that 
have  been  unfolded  apply  to  the  details  of  each.  This 
work  must  be  left  for  subsequent  volumes. 


APPENDIX  I. 

Beauty  According  to  Physiological  Psychology. 

THE  following  criticism  on  a  paper  read  before  the  Princeton  Philo- 
sophic Club  was  made  by  my  colleague.  Prof.  J.  Mark  Baldwin, 
and  afterwards,  at  my  request,  put  into  writing.  Coming,  as  it 
does,  from  one  who  has  made  a  special  study  of  physiological  psychology, 
and  who  has  no  interest  in  maintaining  the  particular  theory  of  beauty 
advocated  in  this  volume,  the  reader  will  recognize  that  it  is  a  better  con- 
firmation of  the  essential  agreement  between  this  theory  and  the  results  of 
modem  investigations  than  it  would  be  possible  for  me  to  present  in  my 
own  language. 

"  Psychology  seems  to  be  tending  to  a  view  of  art  which  emphasizes  the 
subjective  or  emotional  side  of  what  we  call  aesthetic.  Considering  pleasure 
the  most  general  element  in  aesthetic  experience,  we  may  bring  the  topic 
under  the  head  of  Hedonics,  and  ask  what  are  the  marks  of  objects,  situa- 
tions, ideas,  which  make  them  suitable  for  arousing  in  us  the  particular 
kind  of  hedonic  experience  called  aesthetic,  i.  e.,  what  constitutes  beauty? 

"  Experiments  on  sensation-states — especially  on  the  apprehension  of 
visual  forms — result  in  showing  that  wherever  there  is  union  of  elements 
readily  and  easily  brought  about,  wherever  integration  is  affected  without 
strain  to  the  organ  stimulated,  at  the  same  time  that  the  elements  preserve 
their  individuality  in  a  measure,  we  experience  pleasure.  In  perception,  a 
similar  principle  is  found,  known  as  assimilation — to  which  current  psycho- 
logical analysis  is  reducing  the  old  laws  of  association.  When  a  new  expe- 
rience is  assimilated  readily  to  old  categories — fits  into  the  ready  moulds  of 
experience,  thought,  or  conception,  then  we  invariably  experience  pleasure 
— not  the  pleasure  of  pure  identity,  but  of  progressive  identity — of  2l  process 
in  consciousness.  In  the  higher  spheres  we  find  the  same  fundamental 
movement.  Conception  is  a  process  by  which  detached  elements  are  ar- 
ranged, brought  to  unity,  sorted  out,  assimilated  ;  an  argument  is  such  a 
scheme  of  notions,  which  go  together  without  strain  or  conflict ;  and  a  beau- 
tiful character  is  one  whose  acts  of  will  are  consistent  with  one  another  and 
get  assimilated  readily  in  an  ideal  of  duty. 

"  Now  I  think  the  essential  thing  in  it  all — in  sensational  ease,  in  assimi- 
lation, in  logical  consistency — is  this  :  does  the  attention  with  both  its 

345 


246  APPENDIX  I. 

intellectual  and  its  nervous  processes  move  easily  ? — that  is,  is  the  psycho- 
physical process  impeded  or  advanced?  If  the  latter,  then  pleasure  ;  and 
aesthetic  pleasure — just  in  proportion  as  the  processes  to  which  the  attention 
ministers  all  tend  together  to  give  the  best  sense  or  emotion  of  accommo- 
dation. 

"  The  older  criteria  of  beauty  can  be  accounted  for  on  this  view  :  unity 
in  variety,  adaptation,  association,  meaning  or  expressiveness.  And  it 
tends  to  put  an  end  to  the  lasting  controversy  between  '  form'  and  '  mean- 
ing.' For  Wundt's  facts  showing  that  visual  beauty  of  form  is  due  to  ease 
of  eye-movements,  and  Zeising's  '  golden  section,'  and  Bain's  '  associations 
of  utility,'  and  the  '  teleological  judgments'  of  the  intellectualists,  and  the 
•  moral  worths '  of  the  ethical  idealists,  as  well  as  the  '  real  beauty  in 
objects'  of  the  realists — all  these  get  their  due,  as  far  as  their  psychology  is 
concerned,  in  some  such  formula  as  this  :  the  sense  of  beauty  is  an  emotional 
state  arising  from  progressive  psycho-physical  accommodation  to  mental  ob- 
jects. Of  course  the  metaphysics  of  beauty  and  art  is  not  touched  by  this  ;  and 
it  does  not  prejudice  full  metaphysical  treatment." — (Wundt,  "Physiolo- 
gische  Psychologic," 4th  ed. ;  Ward, art.  "Psychology,"  in"  Encyc.  Brittan.," 
9th  ed.  ;  Lotze,  "  Outlines  of  Esthetics"  ;  Marshall,  arts,  on  "  The  Field  of 
^Esthetics  Psychologically  Considered  "  in  "Mind,"  1892  ;  Baldwin,**  Hand- 
book of  Psychology,"  vol.  ii.,  chaps,  on  **  Pleasure  and  Pain  "  and  "  Emo- 
tions of  Relation,"  also  arts,  on  "Psychology"  and  "Sentiment,"  in 
preparation  for  "  Johnson's  Universal  Cyclopaedia,"  new  edition,  1893.) 

With  reference  to  this  subject,  it  will  be  noticed  that,  while  there  is  a 
general  accord,  and  no  conflict  whatever,  between  the  opinions  thus  briefly 
epitomized  and  the  view  of  beauty  presented  in  this  volume,  nevertheless  the 
two  are  not  identical  ;  although  there  is  a  sense  in  which  the  latter  may  be 
supposed  to  be  merely  supplementary  of  the  former,  and  not  outside  the 
range  of  that  for  which  provision  is  made  as  by  Professor  Baldwin  in  the 
last  sentences  of  each  of  his  last  two  paragraphs.  The  differences  of  view, 
so  far  as  they  exist,  can  be  brought  out  best,  perhaps,  by  means  of  an 
illustration. 

If  we  drop  a  perfectly  round  stone  into  a  perfectly  quiet  pool,  all  the 
commotion  that  is  caused,  from  the  large  waves  immediately  encircling  the 
point  of  contact  off  to  the  minutest  waves  upon  the  most  distant  circum- 
ference, will  be  moved  as  by  one  effect  or  kind  of  effect  ;  in  other  words,  they 
will  sustain  a  certain  proportion  to  one  another  and,  relatively  considered, 
each  to  its  nearest  neighbor,  the  same  proportion  ;  or  if  we  strike  a  perfectly 
constructed  bell,  the  same  will  be  true  of  the  sound-waves  encircling  it. 
This  condition  represents  a  kind  of  assimilation  that  can  be  rightly  com- 
pared to  that  which  takes  place  in  connection  with  effects  conveying  the 


BEAUTY.  247 

impression  of  beauty.  But  if  the  stone  or  the  bell  be  very  irregularly  shaped, 
the  ensuing  waves,  in  either  case,  will  appear  to  be  moved  by  more  than  one 
effect  or  kind  of  effect ;  and,  as  a  result,  their  influence  upon  the  eye  or  ear 
will  be  inharmonious.  The  same  result  will  follow  still  more  decidedly  if, 
near  the  first  stone,  a  second,  causing  opposing  effects  upon  the  eye,  be 
dropped  into  the  pool  ;  or  if,  at  the  same  time  with  the  first  bell,  a  second 
causing  opposing  effects  upon  the  ear  be  struck.  This  condition,  in  a  way 
to  be  indicated  presently,  represents  the  possibility  of  a  kind  of  assimila- 
tion which  can  take  place  without  likeness  to  that  which  distinguishes 
beauty. 

In  nature,  opposing  effects,  like  differently  produced  waves  on  a  pool,  can 
often  be  seen  to  assimilate  ;  and  we  have  a  certain  interest  in  watching  the 
result.  So  with  the  sense  of  accommodation,  the  one  to  the  other,  and,  by 
consequence,  of  progressive  identity  of  the  different  stages  of  logical  pro- 
cesses. But  notice  that  in  these  it  is  necessary  only  that  two  or  more  very 
nearly  connected  conceptions  should  assimilate,  whereas  in  beauty — as 
will  be  recognized  upon  recalling  the  conditions  underlying  rhythm,  versi- 
fication, musical  harmony,  proportion,  collected  outlines  of  columns,  arches, 
windows,  roofs,  even  the  tones  of  a  single  scale  or  the  colors  of  a  single 
painting, — it  is  necessary  that  whole  series  and  accumulations  of  effects 
should  assimilate  ;  that,  so  far  as  possible,  everything  presented  should 
seem  to  be  the  result  of  putting  like  effects  (not  necessarily  like  forms — see 
page  1 53)  with  like.  This  requirement  of  beauty  appears  to  be  met  by  saying 
that,  in  it,  the  amount  of  assimilation  is  increased, — that  it  results  in  the 
degree  in  which  the  processes  to  which  attention  ministers  all  tend  together 
to  give  this  sense  of  accommodation.  But  even  this  statement  seems  insuf- 
ficient. In  the  degree  in  which  pleasure  of  any  kind  whatever  predominates, 
the  consciousness  of  opposing  effects  must  be  subordinated  to  that  of  assimi- 
lation. Distinctively  aesthetic  pleasures  differ  from  those  afforded  by  logical 
connection,  or  by  mere  sensational  ease  or  assimilation  not  only  in  the  relative 
amount  of  likeness  in  them,  but  also  in  the  relative  comprehensiveness  of  this. 
There  may  be  physical  pleasure  in  which  there  is  little  or  no  complexity, 
and  therefore  no  assimilation  between  effects  from  sources  essentially  differ- 
ent, such,  for  instance,  as  those  that  appeal  to  the  senses  and  those  that 
appeal  to  the  mind  ;  and  the  same  is  true  of  mental  pleasure  ;  and  in  both 
forms  of  pleasure,  because  of  greater  narrowness  of  excitation,  there 
may  be  more  intensity — more,  that  is,  which  induces  to  thrill  and  rapture, 
tears  and  laughter — than  in  aesthetic  pleasure.  A  person  is  more  apt  to 
become  hilarious  when  being  tickled  or  when  hearing  good  news  from 
the  stock  market,  than  when  reading  Shakespeare.  But  the  peculiarity 
of  sesthetic  pleasures  is  that  while  they  lose  in  intensity  they  gain,  as  a  rule, 


248  APPENDIX  L 

in  breadth.  The  latter  effect  follows  not  only  from  the  relative  amount  of 
likeness  in  them  ;  but  still  more  from  the  range  and  different  qualities  of  the 
sources  of  this.  In  their  most  complete  phases,  as  has  been  shown,  aesthetic 
pleasures  blend  the  results  of  that  which  is  most  important  in  both  physical 
and  mental  stimulus,  widening  one's  outlook  and  sympathies  especially  in 
the  direction — for  this  is  distinctive  in  them — of  enabling  imagination  to  per- 
ceive subtle  correspondences  between  things  material  and  spiritual  which 
otherwise  might  not  reveal  their  essential  unity.  The  fact  is,  as  pointed  out 
on  page  160,  that  the  effects  of  beauty  are  satisfactory  in  the  degree  in  which 
they  are  felt  to  accord  with  every  possible  influence  exerted  at  the  time  when 
they  are  experienced.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  so  far  as  they  result  from 
vibrations,  or  in  connection  with  vibrations,  some  of  these  are  beyond  the 
circumference  of  conscious  experience  ;  but  all  of  them,  nevertheless,  like 
the  minutest  and  most  distant  waves  upon  a  pool,  moved  as  in  our  first  illus- 
tration, seem  at  the  time  to  be  proportional  parts  of  a  universal  rhythm. 
Often,  in  fact,  they  seem  to  be,  and  possibly,  to  an  extent,  they  always  are, 
parts  of  that  larger  rhythm  which,  coming  down  through  life  and  death, 
winter  and  summer,  waking  and  sleeping,  inhalation  and  exhalation,  pulse- 
throb  and  stillness,  extend  back  through  the  alternating  effects  of  metre  and 
proportion,  tone  and  hue,  to  others  of  a  nature  almost  infinitely  subtle,  but 
which  are  just  as  necessary  to  the  life  of  the  spirit  as  the  beat  of  the  heart 
to  that  of  the  body.  To  this  conception  of  beauty  the  idea  of  sensational 
ease  or  assimilation  is  necessary  as  an  accompanying  effect ;  but  it  is  a  ques- 
tion whether,  considered  even  as  a  point  of  departure  for  development,  it  is 
inclusive  of  all  that  is  in  the  germ,  or  of  that  part  of  it  which  most  clearly 
reveals  the  originating  cause.  One  could  not  be  conscious  of  the  thrills  of 
pleasure  connected  with  doing  a  deed  of  disinterested  kindness,  were  it  not 
for  unimpeded  processes  in  the  circulatory  systems  of  his  physical  organism. 
But  these  do  not  account  for  all  the  effects  entering  into  such  an  experience 
or  possible  to  it,  even  if,  as  at  times  in  the  presence  of  beauty,  it  awaken  a 
sense  of  nothing  not  distinctly  physical.  A  cause  to  be  satisfying  must  be 
capable  of  accounting  for  all  the  facts.  Can  this  be  affirmed  of  the  pro- 
cesses that  have  been  mentioned  ?  Are  they  not  rather  effects  accompanyinji 
others  which,  in  connection  with  these,  are  attributable  to  something 
deeper  in  essence  and  more  comprehensive  in  applicability  ? 


APPENDIX  II. 

THE  ESTHETICS  OF  PLATO.' 

PLATO'S  aesthetic  theories  are  most  fully  brought  out  in  "  The  Repub- 
lic. "  In  the  opening  chapters  of  Book  III  of  this  work,  it  is  said  that 
the  guardian — by  whom  is  meant  the  one  who  guards  the  interests  of  the 
republic,  or  the  one  whom,  had  we  limited  suffrage,  as  in  Plato's  time,  we 
should  term  the  ruling  citizen, — must  be  courageous  and  not  have  the  fear  of 
death  in  him  ;  therefore  he  must  not  believe  that  the  world  below  is  real 
and  terrible  ;  he  must  not  become  accustomed  to  the  appalling  names 
which  describe  this  world  and  its  inhabitants, — names  like  Styx,  ghost,  and 
sapless  shades;  nor  must  he  read  about  the  weepings  and  wailings  of  famous 
men  like  Achilles  and  Priam,  especially  in  their  sorrows  for  departed 
friends,  as  if  these  were  suffering  ;  lamentations  of  this  kind  should  be 
attributed  to  women,  or  to  men  of  only  a  baser  sort,  so  that  those  who 
read  of  them  shall  scorn  to  imitate  them.  In  addition  to  this,  it  is  said 
that  the  guardian  should  not  be  given  to  laughter,  for  this  always  produces 
a  violent  reaction  ;  therefore  neither  worthy  men  nor  the  gods  should  be 
represented  as  hilarious. 

Again  we  are  told  that  the  guardian  should  value  truth,  except  if  he  be 
a  ruler  or  a  physician,  with  whom  dissimulation  is  sometimes  necessary  ;  he 
should  also  be  temperate,  and,  therefore,  should  not  become  accustomed  to 
the  representations  of  the  gods  or  men  as  deceiving,  or  indulging  in 
drunkenness  or  lust  ;  representations  should  be  confined  to  those  of  truthful 
and  noble  deeds  ;  finally,  the  guardian  should  not  be  a  raiser  or  a  receiver 
of  bribes,  as  when  Hesiod  speaks  of 

Gifts  persuading  gods,  or  persuading  reverend  kings. 

But,  adds  Plato,  these  conditions,  the  representation  of  which  is  fitted  to 
do  harm,  are  exactly  those  which  artists  and  especially  poets  seem  always  de- 
picting.    From  this  statement  he  passes  on  to  discuss  the  general  principle 

'Being  a  paper  read  in  1902  at  Washington,  D.  C. ,  before  the  Society  for 
Philosophic  Inquiry. 

249 


250  APPENDIX  II. 

involved.  All  poetry,  he  says  (III;  6),  is  a  narration  of  events  either 
past,  present,  or  to  come  ;  and  narration  is  either  a  simple  narrative  or  an 
imitation,  or  a  union  of  the  two,  which  statement  he  explains  by  saying 
that  the  poet  may  either,  in  his  own  person,  say  that  others  did  or  said  so 
and  so,  using  his  own  language  in  describing  the  general  effect  of  their 
language  ;  or  he  may  represent  the  others  as  speaking  ;  and,  in  doing  this, 
he  may  imitate  their  language  ;  or  he  may  adopt  both  methods.  The 
dithyram — /.  e.,  the  hymn  descriptive  of  the  gods — affords,  he  says,  the  best 
example  of  the  pure  narrative,  the  drama  of  pure  imitation,  and  the  epic 
of  the  two  in  combination.  In  what  follows,  it  is  the  drama  and  the  epic 
to  which  Plato  seems  most  to  object.  He  says  that  no  man  can  do  many 
things  well — or  not  as  well  as  he  can  do  a  single  thing  ;  so  he  cannot  play 
a  serious  part,  and  also  an  imitated  part  ;  or  be  an  imitator,  as  must  be  the 
poet.  Therefore  the  guardian,  who  should  be  courageous,  temperate, 
righteous,  free,  and  the  like,  should  not  depict,  nor  be  skilful  in  imitating, 
any  kind  of  illiberality  or  baseness,  lest  from  imitation  he  come  to  be  what 
he  imitates  ;  therefore  we  should  not  allow  those  for  whom  we  profess  a  care 
to  imitate  a  woman  quarrelling  with  her  husband,  or  striving  or  vaunting 
against  the  gods,  or  sorrowing  or  weeping,  or  in  sickness  or  love  ;  nor 
allow  them  to  imitate  slaves  or  bad  men,  who  scold,  mock,  or  revile  one  an- 
other in  drink,  or  sin  against  their  neighbors  in  word  or  deed,  because 
persons  who  do  these  thmgs  are  either  mad  or  bad  ;  nor  should  men  imi- 
tate smiths  or  other  artificers  or  oarsmen,  nor  the  neighing  of  horses,  the 
bellowing  of  bulls,  the  murmur  of  rivers,  or  the  roar  of  the  ocean  or 
of  thunder :  they  may  imitate,  indeed,  the  sayings  or  actions  of  a  good 
and  just  man,  but  not  of  a  character  unworthy  of  themselves.  Plato's 
general  conclusion  is  that  the  state  is  to  employ  for  the  soul's  health,  not 
the  pantomimic  versatile  artist  who  depicts  all  life,  but  "  the  rougher  and 
severer  poet  or  story-teller  who  will  imitate  the  style  of  the  virtuous  only.  " 
From  a  discussion  of  poetry,  Plato  passes  on,  in  III  ;  lo,  to  that  of 
music  ;  and  here  his  conclusions  are  much  the  same.  It  must  not  give  ex- 
pression to  lamentation,  sorrow,  intemperance,  or  softness,  he  says,  but  to 
that  which  is  bold  and  warlike  ;  therefore  he  objects  to  the  milder  notes 
of  the  flute,  preferring  the  harp,  the  lyre,  and  the  pipe.  He  also  objects 
to  instruments  producing  complex  harmonies  interfering  with  the  expres- 
sion of  sentiment  or  ideas, — a  subject  which  will  be  mentioned  again  in  a 
moment.  Of  the  plastic  arts,  he  says  that  artists  in  sculpture  building  and 
the  other  creative  arts  are  to  be  prohibited  from  exhibiting  forms  of  vice,  in- 
temperance and  indecency.  He  who  cannot  conform  to  this  rule,  he  de- 
clares, must  be  prevented  from  practising  his  art  in  our  state,  lest  the  taste  of 
the  guardian  be  corrupted  by  him.     Everything  must  be  done,  he  affirms,  in 


THE  ^ESTHETICS  OF  PLATO.  2$ I 

order  that  "  our  youth  dwelling,  as  it  were,  in  a  land  of  health,  amid  fair 
sights  and  sounds,  may  receive  the  good  in  everything  ;  while  beauty, 
the  effluence  of  fair  works,  shall  flow  into  eye  and  ear,  like  a  health-giving 
breeze  from  a  purer  region,  and  imperceptibly  draw  the  soul  from  earliest 
years  to  likeness  and  sympathy  with  the  beauty  of  reason"  (  III  ;  12). 

In  order  to  secure  this  general  result,  he  especially  commends  a  cultiva- 
tion of  music  in  connection  with  gymnastics.  The  former,  he  says,  culti- 
vates softness,  and  the  latter  strength.  But  in  III  ;  10,  ii,  13,  17,  and 
18,  he  commends  simplicity  in  both.  He  speaks  against  music  composed  in 
what  some  translate  as  the  "pan- harmonic  "style,  composed,  i.  e.,\xi  "all  sorts 
of  harmonies  and  rhythms."  "Complexity,"  he  says  in  III;  13,  "  engenders 
license  and  hence  disease,  whereas  simplicity  in  music  is  the  parent  of 
temperance  in  the  soul,  and  simplicity  in  gymnastics  of  health  in  the  body." 
The  contrasting,  in  this  passage,  of  complexity  with  simplicity,  as  applied 
to  both  music  and  gymnastics,  is  interesting.  It  throws  light  both  upon  the 
degree  of  the  development  of  music  among  the  Greeks,  and  also  upon  their 
exalting  of  that  principle  of  moderation  which  influenced  all  their  judg- 
ments, whether  in  ethics  or  in  aesthetics.  With  reference  to  the  Greek  music, 
certain  passages  in  Aristotle,  especially  Problem  XIX  ;  18,  in  which  he 
asks  "  Why  is  only  the  consonance  of  the  octave  sung?"  and  Problem 
XIX  ;  39,  in  which  he  says  "This  singing  occurs  when  young  boys  and  men 
sing  together,  and  their  tones  differ  as  the  highest  from  the  lowest  of  the 
scale,"  have  been  taken,  as  by  Helmholtz,  in  his  "Sensations  of  Tone" 
(Part  III,  chap.  13 j,  to  indicate  an  exceedingly  limited  use  of  harmonic 
chords.  But  Aristotle  is  referring  to  only  singing  ;  and  it  is  a  fact,  that, 
in  many  of  our  own  churches,  to-day,  choirs  still  sing  in  the  same  way,  i.  e., 
in  what  we  term  unison.  If  one  of  our  writers  were  to  mention  this  fact, 
it  would  not  prove  that  we  do  not  use  harmony.  Moreover,  the  construction 
of  the  Greek  instruments  accompanying  the  voice  was  such  that  they  would 
often  sound  chords,  if  for  no  other  reason,  by  accident.  A  chord,  once 
heard,  would  be  repeated.  So  long,  too,  as  these  chords  among  the  Greeks 
were  determined  by  the  pitch  of  the  note  of  the  melody  that  they  accom- 
panied, they  would  be  agreeable  to  all  ears,  even  to  our  own,  acquainted, 
as  we  are,  with  our  modern  system  of  harmony.  But  the  moment  that  the 
Greeks  sounded  chords  in  succession  without  regard  to  the  requirements  of 
a  distinct  melody,  these  chords  would  produce  disconnected  and  consecu- 
tively discordant  effects,  just  as  is  the  case  to-day  with  chords  produced  in 
succession  by  one  ignorant  of  the  laws  of  harmonic  sequence.  Was  it  not 
against  effects  of  this  kind  that  Plato  was  protesting  when,  insisting, 
as  in  III  ;  11,  that  in  music  the  melody  must  express  the  sentiment,  and 
that  rhythm  and  harmony  must  be  subservient  to  this  melody  and  sentiment, 


252  APPENDIX  n. 

and  not  vice  versa.  This  protest  against  lawless,  and  what  we  to-day  should 
recognize  to  be  discordant  harmony,  is  just  what  one  would  expect  from  a 
critic  of  good  taste  in  the  times  before  the  laws  of  harmonic  sequence  were 
formulated,  and,  so  far  as  one  could  imagine,  incapable  of  being  formulated. 
Now  let  us  add  another  consideration.  It  is  well  known  ( see  "  Rhythm  and 
Harmony  in  Poetry  and  Music,  "  page  190  )  that  in  the  eleventh  century  the 
effects  of  what  has  developed  into  modern  harmony  were  first  begun  in 
what  is  termed  polyphonic  music,  i.  e.,  music  caused  by  singing  or 
playing  together,  at  the  same  time,  two  or  more  separate  melodies.  After 
a  little,  this  form  of  music  was  forbidden  in  the  churches,  because,  as  we 
are  told,  it  led  choirs  not  only  to  suggest,  but  to  repeat  the  tunes  of  the 
streets.  But  might  not  another  reason  have  been  because  the  music  itself 
was  devoid  of  suggestions  of  any  single  sentiment,  and,  in  connection  with 
this,  in  accordance  with  what  has  just  been  said  of  Greek  music  in  "  all 
sorts  of  harmonies  and  rhythms,  "  because  it  sounded  more  like  discord 
than  concord,  and  so  more  hilarious  than  holy.  Though  forbidden  in 
churches,  however,  music  in  this  form  survived,  and  from  it  ultimately  was 
developed  the  elaborate  system  of  harmony  making  possible  the  composi- 
tions of  our  own  times.  Now  when  Plato  speaks  of  "  complex  "  music, 
"  in  all  sorts  of  harmonies  "  not  "  subservient  to  the  melody,  "  may  he  not 
be  referring  to  polyphonic  music  ?  Is  it  possible  that  a  development  of 
harmony  was  begun  in  ancient  Greece  in  precisely  the  same  way  as  in 
modern  Europe  ?  and  that  just  as  the  priests  opposed  it  in  the  latter,  so  the 
philosophers  opposed  it  in  the  former?  Moreover,  when  Aristotle,  in  the 
passage  quoted,  is  speaking  of  singing  in  simple  consonances,  is  he  referring  to 
any  other  than  to  conventional  and  legitimate  effects  appropriate  to  dignified 
performances  ?  Would  not  he,  as  well  as  Plato,  ignore,  as  not  worthy  of  a 
philosophical  critic's  notice,  the  complex  Bacchanalian  effects  of  "pan-har- 
monic "  singing  in  *'  all  sorts  of  rhythms  ?  "  If  we  can  answer  this  question 
in  the  affirmative,  we  can  infer  that  the  Greeks  had  much  more  harmony  in 
their  music  than  has  ordinarily  been  supposed,  though  they  considered  of 
high  rank  such  music  alone  as  might  be  compared  to  our  present  Gregorian 
chants,  or,  at  least,  to  our  simple  and  single  melodies  with  appropriate  ac- 
companiments. The  same  affirmative  answer,  moreover,  will  enable  us  to 
recognize  how  closely — not  only  in  architecture,  sculpture,  and  drama,  but 
also  in  music,  the  Greeks  associated  the  effects  of  simplicity,  as  obtained 
from  unity,  with  enjoyment  distinctly  ethical  in  its  character.  They 
argued  that  simple,  as  distinguished  from  complex,  effects  of  form  can  be 
understood,  and  therefore  do  not  tend  to  a  confusing  of  thought  and  feeling, 
and  thus  to  excitation  beyond  the  limits  of  rational  moderation.  By 
complexity  in  gymnastics,  especially  in  view  of  what  is  said,  in  III ;  13,  of 


THE  MSTHETICS   OF  PLATO.  253 

diet  in  connection  with  gymnastics,  it  is  probable  that  Plato  refers  to  trick- 
gymnastics,  and  the  customary  training  for  them,  as  distinguished  from 
exercises  designed  merely  to  increase  physical  health  and  strength. 

In  Book  X.  of  "  The  Republic,"  Plato  again  discusses  the  subject  of  imita- 
tion, declaring  it  to  be  ruinous  to  the  understanding.  He  refers  to  it  now, 
too,  as  manifested  not  chiefly  in  poetry,  but  also  in  painting  and  sculpture. 
To  illustrate  what  he  means, he  says  (X.;  i  and  2)  that  there  may  be  three 
sources  of  a  bed,  namely,  God  who  is  the  source  of  the  idea,  the  man  who 
makes  it,  and  the  artist  who  imitates  what  the  man  has  made.  The  latter, 
therefore,  is  thrice  removed,  as  he  puts  it,  "  from  the  king,"  and  so  from 
the  truth.  A  like  condition,  he  declares,  in  every  case  characterizes  the 
poet  and  the  writer  of  tragedy.  Moreover,  while  the  maker  of  the  bed,  or 
the  original  human  source  of  action,  gives  expression  to  the  idea  as  it  is  in 
reality,  the  artistic  imitator  reproduces  alone  the  appearance,  not  the 
reality  ;  he  is  therefore  a  long  distance  away  from  the  truth,  and  can  do 
"all  things,"  as  some  say,  for  the  reason  that  he  lightly  touches  on  a  small 
part  of  them,  and  that  part  an  image  ;  so  when  we  hear  a  person  declaring 
that  the  dramatists  and  Homer,  who  is  at  their  head,  know  all  the  arts  and 
all  things  human,  he  may  have  come  upon  imitators,  producing  what  could 
easily  be  made  without  any  knowledge  of  the  truth,  because  appearances 
only  and  not  realities.  A  real  artist,  or,  as  he  means,  a  real  thinker, 
*' would  be  interested  in  realities,  not  in  imitations  ;  and  prefer,  instead  of 
being  the  author  of  encomiums,  to  be  the  theme  of  them."  We  cannot, 
says  Plato  (X.;  3),  study  medicine  or  military  science  or  statescraft  from 
Homer.  Nothing  in  the  way  of  legislation,  or  war,  or  invention,  or  any 
public  service,  can  be  attributed  to  him.  "Is  it  conceivable,"  he  asks, 
"  that  the  contemporaries  of  Homer,  or  again  of  Hesiod,  would  have  al- 
lowed either  to  go  about  as  rhapsodists  if  they  had  really  been  able  to  make 
mankind  virtuous  ? ''  and  where  were  their  disciples  who  followed  them  to 
obtain  education  from  them?  Therefore,  declares  Plato,  "  we  must  infer 
that  all  these  poetical  individuals  are  only  imitators  ;  they  copy  images  of 
virtue  and  the  like,  but  the  truth  they  never  reach  "  ;  so  with  the  painter 
(X.;  4).  He  will  paint  reins,  and  he  will  paint  a  bit,  but  "  the  worker  in 
leather  and  brass  will  make  them."  Does  the  painter  know  even  "  the 
right  from  the  wrong  of  the  bit  and  reins  ? — Nay,  hardly  the  worker  in 
brass  and  leather, — only  the  horseman  who  knows  how  to  use  them." 
*'  The  excellence  or  beauty  or  truth  of  every  structure,  animate  or  inani- 
mate," says  Plato,  *'  of  every  action  of  man,  is  relative  to  the  use  for  which 
nature  or  the  artist  has  intended  it."  "  Of  an  instrument,  the  maker  only 
will  attain  to  a  correct  belief,  and  this  he  will  gain  from  him  who  knows; 
^he  user  will  have  knowledge  ;  the  imitator  will  have  neither,  and  will 


254  APPENDIX  II, 

have  no  more  true  conception  than  he  will  have  knowledge  about  the  good- 
ness or  badness  of  his  imitations  "  ;  so  he  will  go  on  imitating  without 
knowing  what  makes  a  thing  good  or  bad,  and  may  be  expected,  therefore, 
to  imitate  only  that  which  appears  to  be  good  to  the  ignorant  multitude. 

Now,  as  to  the  effect  of  imitation  on  him  to  whom  it  is  addressed.  A 
body,  declares  Plato  (X.;  5),  may  be  large  when  seen  near,  and  be  small 
when  seen  at  a  distance,  straight  when  looked  at  out  of  water,  and  crooked 
when  seen  in  water  ;  and  these  conditions  are  represented  in  art ;  but  in 
nature  the  apparently  greater  or  less,  straight  or  crooked,  no  longer  have 
the  mastery  over  us,  but  give  way  before  calculation  and  measure.  Now, 
the  part  of  the  soul  which  has  an  opinion  contrary  to  measure,  as  in  art, 
is  not  the  same  as  that  which  has  an  opinion  in  accordance  with  measure. 
The  better  part  of  the  soul  is  likely  to  be  that  which  trusts  to  measure  and 
calculation.  Therefore  painting  and  imitation,  when  doing  their  proper 
work,  are  far  removed  from  truth,  and  are  the  companions,  friends,  and 
associates  of  a  principle  within  us  which  is  equally  removed  from  reason  ; 
they  have  no  true  or  healthy  aim.  Imitative  art  is  an  inferior,  who  mar- 
ries an  inferior,  and  has  inferior  offspring. 

Besides  this,  argues  Plato,  the  things  chosen  for  imitation  are  those  usu- 
ally which  a  wise  and  good  man  does  not  reveal.  In  times  of  trouble 
(X.;  6)  he  does  not  act  like  children  who  have  had  a  fall,  keeping  hold  of 
the  part  struck,  and  wasting  time  in  setting  up  a  howl.  The  imitative 
poet  who  aims  at  being  popular  in  order  to  please  the  crowd,  will  prefer 
the  passionate  and  fitful  temper  which  is  easily  imitated,  and  is  recognized 
by  people  in  general  to  be  very  common. 

In  his  own  conception,  the  heaviest  accusation  which  Plato  brings  against 
poetry  (X.;  7),  is  the  harm  which  it  does  when  it  represents  "  some  pitiful 
hero  who  is  drawling  out  his  sorrows  "  ;  at  such  times,  he  says,  the  best  of 
us  delight  in  giving  way  to  sympathy,  and  are  in  raptures  at  the  excellence 
of  the  poet  who  stirs  our  feelings  most ;  but  when  any  sorrow  of  our  own 
happens  to  us,  then  we  pride  ourselves  on  the  opposite  quality  ;  we  would 
fain  be  patient  and  quiet.  Can  we  be  right  in  praising  and  admiring  an- 
other who  is  doing  that  which  any  one  of  us  would  abominate  and  be 
ashamed  of,  if  manifested  in  his  own  person  ?  The  same  principle,  Plato 
adds,  applies  to  the  ridiculous,  or  to  lust  or  to  anger,  when  we  see  and  ad- 
mire the  representation  of  it. 

Finally,  Plato  (X. ;  8),  apparently,  in  the  end,  distrustful  of  the  conclu- 
sions to  which  his  logic  has  seemed  to  have  forced  him,  says  of  poetry, 
"that  she  may  not  impute  to  us  any  harshness  or  want  of  politeness,  let 
me  tell  her  that  there  is  an  ancient  quarrel  between  philosophy  and  poetry, 
of  which  there  are  many  proofs.     I  dare  say,  Glaucus,  that  you  are  as  much 


THE  ^ESTHETICS  OF  PLATO.  255 

charmed  by  her  as  I  am,  especially  when  she  appears  in  Homer."  "  Shall 
I  propose,  then,  that  she  be  allowed  to  return  from  exile  "  (he  had  pre- 
viously proposed  to  banish  her);  "but  upon  this  condition  only  ; — that  she 
make  a  defense  of  herself  in  lyrical  or  some  other  metre.  If  it  can  be 
proved  that  she  is  not  only  pleasant,  but  also  useful  to  state  and  to  human 
life,  we  shall  surely  be  the  gainers." 

So  much  for  Plato.  As  for  the  last  words  quoted,  we  may  be  certain 
that  any  influence,  originated  and  patronized  by  the  best  people  in  all 
times  and  countries,  is,  as  a  fact,  not  only  pleasant,  but  also  useful  to  state 
and  to  human  life.  But  if  so,  the  reason  for  this  must  evidently  be  based 
upon  a  different  conception  of  poetry  and  of  all  art  and  its  aims  than  that 
which  was  held  by  Plato. 

It  is  a  singular  fact  in  the  history  of  art,  that  the  theories  termed,  in  this 
day,  Platonic  and  Aristotelian,  are  respectively  exactly  the  opposite  of  the 
theories  concerning  the  subject  which  can  be  rightly  attributed  to  Plato 
and  to  Aristotle  themselves.  The  present  so-called  Platonists  hold  that  art 
is  not  imitation  but  the  expression  of  ideas.  As  we  have  just  found,  Plato 
opposed  art  because  he  thought  it  was  imitation  as  manifested  in  even  Homer 
and  the  foremost  dramatists,  painters,  and  sculptors.  On  the  other  hand, 
as  will  be  shown  in  Appendix  III.,  Aristotle  argued  that  art,  while  involv- 
ing imitation,  included  also  a  representation  of  that  which  "  appears  to  be 
or  ought  to  be." 

Of  course,  however,  there  must  be  some  reason  why  those  are  supposed 
to  be  Platonists  who  hold  that  art  is  the  expression  of  ideas.  This  reason 
will  be  found  in  Plato's  conception,  not  of  art,  but  of  beauty.  In  his  own 
mind,  he  never  considered  the  two  as,  in  any  sense,  necessarily  connected. 
He  never  would  have  termed  the  arts,  as  the  French  do,  "  the  beautiful 
arts."  To  him  beauty  was  one  thing,  and  imitative  art,  which  might  or 
might  not  deal  with  beauty,  was  another  thing.  His  conception  of  beauty, 
too,  was,  in  the  highest  sense,  idealistic.  Here  is  what  he  says  of  it  in 
III.;  IT  :  "  Ugliness  and  discord  and  inharmonious  motion  are  nearly  allied 
to  ill  words  and  ill  nature,  as  grace  and  harmony  are  the  twin-sisters  of 
goodness  and  virtue,  and  bear  their  likeness";  and  in  III.;  12:  "When  a 
beautiful  soul  harmonizes  with  a  beautiful  form,  and  the  two  are  cast  in 
one  mould,  that  will  be  the  fairest  of  sights  to  him  who  has  the  eye  to  see 
it."  This  is  all  very  well,  so  far  as  it  goes  ;  but  it  reminds  one  of  the  general 
criticism  that,  in  the  "  De  Anima,"  III.;  8,  Aristotle  makes  upon  Plato's 
conception  of  the  ideas,  namely,  that  the  ideas  have  to  be  perceived  in  a 
formal  setting.  We  can  apprehend  what  Plato  means  by  a  beautiful  soul. 
But  what  does  he  mean  by  a  beautiful  form  ?  Whence  could  one  get  a  con- 
ception of  this  but  from  nature?  and  if  he  got  it  from  nature,  how  could  he 


256  APPENDIX  II. 

use  it,  except  by  way  of  imitation  ?  Professor  Agassiz  thought  it  could  be 
proved  that  no  form  has  ever  been  originated  by  a  man,  the  parts  of  which, 
at  least,  were  not  reproductions  of  things  already  existing  in  the  visible  or 
audible  world.  (See  page  4  of  this  volume.)  This  fact  Plato  overlooked. 
But  Aristotle  did  not,  as  shown,  among  other  places,  in  the  reference  just 
given  from  the  "  De  Anima,"  III.;  8.  In  order  to  surmise,  if  we  can,  why 
Plato  overlooked  the  fact,  let  us  try  to  go  back,  for  a  moment,  if  possible, 
to  his  view-point.  This  seems  to  have  been,  primarily,  religious.  Plato 
believed  in  spirit  as  a  motive-influence  in  the  individual  man  and  in  the 
material  universe.  But  the  Greek's  conception  of  spirit  was,  primarily, 
polytheistic.  To  him  a  spirit,  in  a  man  or  a  god,  was  something  with  a 
body;  a  spirit  in  nature  was  something  embodied  in  a  particular  natural 
object.  This  belief  was  necessarily  associated  with  the  form  of  religion 
which,  at  that  time,  was  exerting  the  most  influence  over  the  best  men  of 
Plato's  country.  It  was  a  religion  that  looked  to  the  guidance  of  the 
spirits  of  those  who  had  departed  from  this  world,  some  of  whom  had 
been  exalted  in  popular  imagination  to  the  position  of  demi-gods  and 
gods.  The  memory  and  influence  of  these  spirits  were  perpetuated  through 
many  ceremonials  and  mysteries  like  the  Eleusinian,  and  through  oracles 
like  those  of  Delphi,  as  well  as  through  the  ministrations  of  a  large 
number  of  less  responsible  sooth-sayers  and  wonder-workers.  It  is  the 
general  result  of  this  form  of  religion,  and  its  supposed  revelations,  that 
seems  to  be  at  the  basis  of  Platonism,  just  as  clearly  as  the  general  result 
of  the  Christian  religion  is  at  the  basis  of  almost  all  the  ethics  and  philos- 
ophy of  our  country  and  period.  This  being  so — and  some  of  the  finest 
passages  in  Plato  seem  to  prove  it — what  phase  of  thought  existing  in  his 
time  would  seem  the  most  opposed  to  his  own  ?  Would  it  not  be  that 
kind  of  interest  in  nature  which  to  him  would  seem  to  lead  to  an  unwar- 
ranted regard  for  the  merely  material  factors  of  the  universe  ?  In  many 
passages,  Plato  attributes  influences  not  to  that  which  is  material,  but  to 
something  spiritual  at  work  behind  it.  There  is  reason  to  suppose,  too,  that 
with  him  this  was  a  very  deeply  settled  method  of  thought.  For  instance, 
it  seems  clear  that,  if  he  had  considered  the  clairvoyant  glimpses  into  the 
spiritual  realm  to  which  he  often  refers  as  mere  fabrications  of  imagination, 
he  would  not  have  used  them,  as  he  frequently  does,  at  the  ends  of  his  dis- 
courses, apparently  to  cap  the  climax  of  his  arguments.  At  the  end  of  "  The 
Republic,"  for  instance,  he  quotes  an  account  of  Erus,  who,  when  laid  on 
the  funeral  pile,  revived,  and,  being  revived,  told  what  he  had  seen  in  the 
other  state.  This  account  Plato  details  with  fully  as  much  reverence  and 
expectation  of  being  believed  as  a  writer  of  our  own  time  would  quote  a 
passage  from  the  Bible.     In  fact,  it  would  probably  not  have  been  possible 


THE  ESTHETICS  OF  PLATO.  257 

for  any  thoughtful  inquirer  like  Plato,  surrounded  by  the  apparent  miracles 
and  mysteries  of  the  Greeks  of  his  time,  to  have  failed  to  have  had  individ- 
ual psychical  experiences  justifying  to  his  own  mind  a  belief  such  as  was 
then  prevalent.  Dr.  J.  L.  Nevius,  with  whom  I  was  personally  acquainted, 
a  man  of  intellectual  grasp  and  plenty  of  Christian  bias,  for  thirty  years  or 
more  a  Presbyterian  missionary  in  China,  with  only  limited  means  of  be- 
coming acquainted  with  Chinese  beliefs  and  the  reasons  for  them,  ex- 
presses, in  his  work  on  "  Demonology,"  the  opinion  that  there  are  real 
psychologic  facts  behind  what  we  term  the  Chinese  superstitions,  and  he 
ascribes  the  existence  of  these  facts  to  the  influence  of  demons.  So  did 
Socrates,  according  to  Plato,  although  both  applied  to  the  word  detnon  a 
different  signification  from  that  intended  by  Dr.  Nevius.  We  also,  in 
view  of  the  characters  of  some  of  the  Greek  gods — for  instance,  Venus  or 
Bacchus, — might  be  inclined  to  agree  with  Dr.  Nevius.  But  this  is  a  ques- 
tion merely  of  explanation.  The  facts  are  what  concern  us  now  ;  and  the 
facts  are  these  :  that,  in  Plato's  time,  there  were  manifestations — words  and 
deeds — which  intelligent  men,  rightly  or  wrongly,  considered  to  be  sufficient 
to  justify  the  spiritualistic  theory.  According  to  this  theory,  spirits  exist 
inside  of  human  and  of  other  material  forms.  Besides  this,  while  not 
living  on  the  earth,  through  using,  after  death,  the  forms  of  those  who  are 
living,  some  with  spirit-bodies  can  talk  through  human  voices  and  work 
through  human  frames.  They  can  talk,  too,  without  using  human  voices, 
and  move  material  objects  without  using  human  frames  ;  but  only  because, 
though  not  having  bodies  usually  visible  to  man,  they  can  materialize  these. 
This  was  a  theory  commonly  accepted  by  the  religious  people  of  ancient 
Greece,  and  probably  apparently  exemplified  in  the  earlier  mysteries,  until 
the  time  when  the  observances  of  these  came  to  be  a  ritualistic  commemo- 
ration of  what  was  once — as  seems  to  be  evinced  by  the  dark  rooms,  espec- 
ially in  the  Egyptian  temples — a  purely  psychical  exhibition. 

Now,  given  this  theory,  we  can  understand  Plato's  view  of  beauty.  A 
beautiful  soul,  the  essential  life  of  which  is  purely  spiritual,  has  but  to 
materialize  itself,  either  through  birth  or  apparition,  and  it  necessarily 
takes  on  a  beautiful  form.  A  beautiful  idea  has  but  to  exert  its  appropri- 
ate influence  upon  that  which  gives  it  visible  or  audible  embodiment  or 
expression,  and  according  to  a  law  of  its  own  inward  nature,  it  necessarily 
takes  on  a  beautiful  aspect.  All  the  outward  results  of  beauty  depend 
upon  the  inward  cause.  They  are  attributable  to  some  spirit,  as  a 
Creative  Source,  manifesting  its  influence  in  laws  of  formation.  It  is  be- 
cause of  this  influence  impelling  to  outward  expression  that  a  tree,  a  crystal, 
or  the  wintry  frost  on  a  window-pane,  assumes  a  beautiful  shape.  This  is 
a  fascinating  theory,  and,  from  Plato's  time  to  the  present,   many  have 


258  APPENDIX  II. 

thought  that  it  could  solve  not  'some,  as  is  true,  but  all  the  requirements  of 
art.  In  thinking  this,  however,  they  have  overlooked  certain  other  essen- 
tial considerations.  Even  if  the  theory  could  solve  the  problem  of  spiritual 
creation  or  influence,  it  would  not  follow  that  it  could  solve  the  problem  of 
art,  because  art  is  not  wholly  spiritual  or  creative.  (See  page  3  of  this 
volume.)  Art  is  a  form  produced  by  a  man,  and  a  man  is  not  yet  a  spirit. 
He  may  have  spiritual  instincts  tending,  in  a  vague  way,  toward  a  recog- 
nition and  production  of  the  beautiful ;  but,  as  a  man,  with  a  human  mind 
working  in  a  consciously  rational  way,  he  knows  nothing  about  form  except 
as  he  may  perceive  it  in  the  external  world,  of  the  appearances  of  which 
alone  he  is  conscious.  Nor  can  he  produce  form,  except  so  far  as  he  re- 
combines  those  factors  of  it  which  have  already  been  created  for  him  in  this 
external  world.  One  hears  a  man  talk  to  himself,  and  he  imitates  the 
general  form  of  the  talk  in  a  lyric.  He  hears  men  talk  together,  and  he 
imitates  the  general  effect  in  a  drama.  He  hears  them  hum,  and  he  imitates 
the  general  effect  in  a  melody.  He  looks  at  scenery  and  a  human  figure,  and 
he  imitates  the  general  effect  in  a  painting  or  a  statue.  He  notices  the 
methods  in  nature  of  protection,  support,  and  shelter,  and  he  imitates  the 
general  effect  in  a  building.  So  far  as  a  man  is  an  artist,  i.  e.,  a  being  who 
works  by  intellection  as  well  as  by  inspiration,  it  is  always  nature  that  fur- 
nishes his  model.  Especially  is  this  true  of  that  which,  in  art,  is  beautiful. 
There  is  no  beauty  without  form.  There  is  no  form  except  in  visible  or 
audible  nature.  There  is  no  beauty  of  form  that  is  not  suggested  in  con- 
nection with  an  observation  of  nature.  This  applies  not  only  to  the  general 
outlines  of  art-form,  but  to  the  details  of  its  elaboration — to  rhythm,  pro- 
portion, tone,  color,  and  the  harmony  of  tone  and  color.  All  these,  in  their 
perfected  phases,  are  developments  of  certain  great  laws  of  appearance 
which  have  to  do  with  the  pleasurable  or  disagreeable  effects  produced  upon 
the  nervous  organization  of  the  eye  or  ear,  or,  through  suggestion,  of  the 
mind  itself.  There  are  many  physical  and  psychical  elements  which,  in 
certain  circumstances,  enter  into  the  requirements  of  beauty  ;  but  of  all 
these  a  man  knows  with  certainty  only  so  far  as  he  may  study  their  effects 
in  material  nature. 

What  then? — Is  beauty  merely  an  attribute  of  matter? — a  superficial 
quality  ?  Is  Plato  wholly  wrong  ?  Has  the  idea,  the  spiritual  force  which 
he  supposes  to  be  the  cause  of  the  expression,  no  influence  ?  Just  the  con- 
trary may  be  true.  But  so  far  as  the  idea  appeals  to  the  mind,  it  can  be- 
come an  object  of  conscious  thought  only  when  embodied  in  material 
nature.  Plato*s  mistake  lay  partly  in  overlooking  this  fact,  but  mainly  in 
having  too  narrow  a  conception  of  the  way  in  which,  if  it  be  a  fact,  the 
idea  can  be  embodied.    Like  the  Greeks  whom  Paul  addressed  at  Mars  Hill, 


THE  ESTHETICS  OF  PLATO.  259 

Plato,  to  adopt  the  translation  of  modern  scholars,  was,  in  his  own  way, 
"  too  religious."  Consciously  or  unconsciously,  his  conception  of  spiritual 
influence  as  exerted  mainly  in  and  through  a  spirit-body,  seems  to  have 
narrowed  his  conception  of  spiritual  influence  exerted  outside  of  such  a 
body.  His  opposition  to  anything  resembling  materialism  seems  to  have 
carried  him  so  far — at  any  rate,  when  discussing  art — as  to  prevent  him  from 
recognizing,  as  is  commonly  done  in  our  own  age,  the  revelation  which 
the  One  Creative  Spirit  can  make  of  methods  and  purposes,  through  the 
arrangements  and  movements  of  material  nature,  which,  in  themselves, 
have,  apparently,  no  bodily  relations  to  such  a  Spirit. '  If  Plato  had  recog- 
nized this  revelation,  he  would  have  had  no  difficulty  in  perceiving  in  what 
sense  the  mere  imitation  of  external  appearances  may  be  justified  on  the 
ground  that  it  involves  a  profound  study  of  divine  thought.  He  would  have 
perceived,  too,  that  if  these  appearances  can  be  used  by  the  Creator  to  illus- 
trate truths  originated  in  the  Creative  mind,  the  same  can  be  used  by  a  man 
to  illustrate  other  truths  that  are  suggested  to  his  human  mind.  Besides 
this,  Plato  would  have  perceived  that,  in  the  degree  in  which  the  ideas  of 
the  Creative  Spirit,  as  illustrated  in  material  nature,  are  to  be  communi- 
cated in  unmodified  form,  the  imitation  of  appearances  in  nature  must  be 
exact ;  and,  in  connection  with  this,  a  little  thought  would  have  enabled 
him  to  perceive  that  form  of  any  kind,  whether  in  nature  or  in  art,  influ- 
ences the  mind  in  a  very  diff'erent  way  from  that  which  he  supposes  when 
he  talks  about  the  evil  effects  of  comedy  or  tragedy,  and  suggests  confining 
poetry  to  hymns  in  praise  of  the  gods  and  to  encomiums  upon  famous  men 
(X.;  7).  Anything  taught  through  the  forms  of  material  nature,  whether 
through  pictures  drawn  from  experience,  observation,  biography,  or  history, 
addresses  the  mind  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  it  free  to  form  its  own  con- 
clusions ;  and  any  one  who  has  faith  in  the  Creative  Spirit  has  faith  to  be- 
lieve that  the  arrangements  of  nature  are  such  that  a  thoughtful  mind  will 
not  fail  to  find  illustrated  in  them  exactly  those  principles  and  laws  which 
are  suited  for  one's  highest  mental  and  spiritual  requirements.     Art  in  re- 

'  Students  of  Plato  may  object  to  this  statement,  and  refer  to  The 
Timceus  as  controverting  it.  But,  notwithstanding  much  in  that  book 
which,  apparently,  sustains  their  view,  here,  in  Plato's  own  words,  are  evi- 
dences of  the  subtle  workings,  which  are  all  that  I  wish  to  indicate,  of  the 
conception  that  I  have  attributed  to  him.  "  The  deity,  indeed,  desirous  of 
making  it  "— z.  e.,  the  universe — "  in  all  respects  resemble  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  entirely  perfect  of  intelligible  objects,  formed  it  into  one  visible 
animal,  containing  within  itself  all  the  other  animals,  with  which  it  is 
naturally  allied." — Timceus^  XL,  tr.  by  Henry  Davis. 


26o  APPENDIX  II. 

producing  the  appearances  and  methods  of  nature  continues  and  develops 
their  mental  and  spiritual  effects.  In  the  lyric,  the  play,  the  novel,  the 
picture,  the  statue, — and  always  in  the  degree  in  v^^hich  the  imitation  of 
nature  is  exact, — art  widens  the  experience  of  men  with  the  same  influence 
upon  the  mind  that  would  be  produced  by  actual  experience,  making  them 
wiser,  more  sympathetic,  more  charitable  ;  in  short,  more  humane.  If 
heroes  weep  and  great  men  grow  hilarious,  we  are  not  led,  as  Plato  sup- 
poses, to  imitate  them,  unless  the  sequel,  when  it  has  been  worked  out  by 
the  author  or  thought  out  by  ourselves,  leads  us  to  think  it  wise  to  do  both. 
Notice,  too,  that  the  accuracy  of  nature's  appearances  and  processes  must 
be,  in  all  cases,  the  measure  of  the  moral  as  well  as  the  aesthetic  value  of  the 
product.  Upon  certain  minds,  a  Sunday-School  story  distorting  the  truth 
in  order  to  point  a  moral  may  be  just  as  injurious  as  a  sensational  play 
that  distorts  the  truth  in  order  to  avoid  pointing  a  moral.  It  will  be 
perceived  that  this  is  a  view  of  the  influence  of  art  of  which  Plato  had  no 
conception.  As  already  indicated  in  this  volume,  art  is  the  expression  of 
human  thought  and  feeling  in  the  terms  of  nature.  This  expression  is 
never  merely  communicative,  nor  merely  imitative.  It  is  always  both.  It 
is  representative.  Art  embodies  truth,  not  dogmatically  but  imaginatively, 
and  its  influence  is  exerted  not  by  way  of  dictation,  but  of  suggestion. 
Therefore,  art  does  not,  cannot,  and  should  not  take  the  place — as  Plato 
seems  to  suppose  that  it  may — of  either  philosophy,  ethics,  or  theology. 
All  these  together  cannot  produce  upon  conception  or  emotion  the  broad- 
ening effects  of  aesthetics.  It  is  well,  therefore,  to  let  the  latter  do  its 
own  work,  as  also  to  acknowledge  the  value  of  this  work  when  it  is  done 
well. 


APPENDIX  III. 

THE  ^ESTHETICS  OF  ARISTOTLE.* 

ARISTOTLE  was  the  first  of  writers  whose  works  are  still  extant,  to 
analyze  art  in  the  spirit  of  modern  criticism,  and,  from  his  deduc- 
tions, to  build  up  a  consistent,  and,  so  far  as  it  went,  a  scientific  system  of 
aesthetics.  Many  of  his  methods  accord  strictly  with  those  of  modern  times, 
and  some  of  his  conclusions  reach  as  far  as  any  that  have  yet  been  advanced. 
To  get  a  clear  conception  of  what  these  conclusions  were,  it  seems  best  to 
begin  with  a  brief  survey  of  the  line  of  thought  in  his  "  Rhetoric."  This 
course  will  show  the  general  range  of  his  conceptions  of  art,  and  how  closely 
he  connected — just  as  Plato  did,  but  as  most  modern  so-called  Aristotelians 
do  not — the  effects  of,  at  least,  literary  art  with  those  of  intellection  and 
morality.  The  "  Rhetoric  "  is  very  comprehensive,  touching  not  alone  upon 
the  subject  indicated  in  the  title,  but  also  upon  logic  and  ethics.  The  first 
book  opens  with  definitions  of  the  different  kinds  of  orations,  but  quickly 
passes  to  a  consideration  of  the  themes  treated  in  these,  and  of  the  atti- 
tudes of  mind  of  those  to  whom  they  are  to  be  addressed.  This  turn  of  the 
thought  leads  to  discussions  of  good  and  evil,  of  the  forms  of  govern- 
ment regulating  these,  of  the  honorable  and  the  dishonorable,  of  injury  and 
pleasure,  of  the  just  and  the  unjust,  and  of  proof  artificial  and  not  artificial. 
In  the  second  book,  beliefs  are  discussed,  and  the  influence  upon  them  of 
anger,  and  how  this  can  be  appeased  or  removed.  The  same  subject  is 
continued  by  showing  the  influence  upon  beliefs  of  love,  friends,  enmity, 
hatred,  fear,  assurance,  shame,  grace,  favor,  pity,  compassion,  indignation, 
envy,  and  emulation.  After  this,  it  is  shown  how  beliefs  can  be  modified 
by  youth,  age,  middle-life,  noble  station,  riches,  power  ;  and,  in  conclusion, 
what  are  the  effects  upon  methods  of  presentation  of  facts,  examples,  simil- 
itudes, fables,  propositions,  principles,  arguments,  amplifications,  and 
extensions. 

In  reading  these  chapters  one  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  impressed  by  the 

*  Being  a  part  of  a  paper  read  in  1903,  at  Washington,  D.  C,  before  the 
Society  for  Philosophic  Inquiry. 

261 


262  APPENDIX  III, 

practical  turn  of  Aristotle's  mind.  As  an  associate  and  teacher,  it  is  pos- 
sible that  to  many  he  was  much  more  interesting  than  Plato,  though,  as  is 
likely,  less  inspiring.  Aristotle  shows,  in  many  places,  that  if  he  wished, 
he  too,  like  the  great  idealist,  could  soar,  but  he  always  remains  somewhat 
nearer  the  ground,  near  enough  to  suggest  that  he  could  walk  to  his  goal 
if  only  he  had  time  to  do  so.  He  is  no  absent-minded  philosopher,  but 
seems  constantly  to  have  his  eyes  open.  Nor  could  any  modern  essayist, 
trained  in  the  office  of  a  newspaper,  furnish  more  shrewd  observations 
than  he,  when  describing,  for  instance,  the  peculiarities  and  foibles  of 
youth  as  contrasted  with  those  of  middle  or  old  age  ;  e.  g.,  the  optimistic 
rashness  and  generosity  of  the  first  of  these,  and  the  pessimistic  conserva- 
tism and  penuriousness  of  the  last  of  them,  as  character  has  been  gradually 
developed  by  the  experience  of  life,  especially  of  its  disappointments.  It  is 
particularly  interesting  to  notice  what  he  says  of  the  indifference  to  the 
opinions  and  wishes  of  others — of  the  snobbishness,  as  we  term  it  in  our 
day — that  begins  to  manifest  itself  in  individuals  and  classes  when  they 
acquire  wealth  and  cease  to  be  dependent  upon  others.  His  portrayal  reveals 
a  condition  of  society  in  Greece,  proving  that  human  nature  then  and  there 
was  precisely  what  it  is  now  and  here.  We  are  accustomed  to  ascribe  to 
Athens  in  its  prime  an  aristocracy  of  intelligence.  But  if  this  had  ever 
existed  it  had  already  begun,  before  the  time  of  Aristotle,  to  give  place, 
just  as  it  seems  to  do  everywhere,  to  class-distinctions  founded  upon  the 
degrees  in  which  men  are  able  to  exert  the  most  influence  in  material  and 
practical  directions. 

In  the  third  book  of  the  "  Rhetoric,  "  Aristotle  treats  of  what  is  termed 
elocution  or  pronunciation.  But  of  this,  in  the  parts  of  the  book  that  are 
extant,  very  little  is  said.  The  discussion  centres  mainly  about  such  sub- 
jects as  the  choice  of  words,  epithets  and  metaphors,  the  use  of  purity  and 
decency  of  language,  and  attention  to  style,  arrangement,  narratives,  ques- 
tions, answers,  jests,  and  to  the  climax  of  all  as  given  in  the  peroration. 

It  is  from  the  "  Poetics,"  however,  that  we  derive  the  clearest  indications 
of  Aristotle's  aesthetic  position.  Turning  to  this  essay  we  find  that  it  opens 
with  the  statement,  as  translated,  that  all  the  arts  are  "  entirely  imitations  "  ; 
and  a  distinction  is  drawn  between  imitation  in  poetry,  music,  and  painting, 
the  differences  being  attributed  to  the  use  in  each  of  these  arts  of  different 
means  with  different  objects,  and  in  a  different  manner.  The  author  then, 
in  Chapter  4,  traces  the  causes  and  progress  of  poetry.  He  points  out  that 
imitation  is  natural  to  children.  As  they  grow  older,  men  of  a  more  vener- 
able character  imitate  beautiful  actions,  while  the  more  ignoble  imitate 
their  opposite.  The  latter  come  to  compose  vituperative  verses  according 
to   the  same  method  in  which  the   former   come  to  compose  hymns   and 


THE  jESTHETICS  OF  ARISTOTLE.  263 

encomiums.  These  two  diflferent  forms  of  expression,  when  developed,  lead 
respectively,  he  says,  to  comedy  and  tragedy,  both  of  which  originated  in 
extemporaneous  efforts — comedy  from  those  who  sang  the  phallic  verses, 
which,  as  he  observes,  with  a  very  decided  suggestion  of  disapproval, 
*'  even  now  remain  in  use  in  many  cities,  "  and  tragedy  from  those  who  led 
the  dithyram  or  sacred  hymn.  Comedy,  he  says  again,  differs  from  tragedy 
in  having  a  simple  metre,  in  being  a  narration,  and  in  being  of  a  different 
length.  Of  tragedy,  he  remarks  in  Chapter  5,  that  "  he  who  knows  what 
is  good  or  bad  tragedy,  knows  the  same  in  respect  to  epic  poetry  ;  for  those 
things  which  the  epic  possesses  are  to  be  found  in  tragedy  ;  but  everything 
which  tragedy  contains  is  not  in  the  epic." 

From  Aristotle's  definition  of  tragedy,  in  Chapter  6,  we  begin  to  get  a 
conception  of  his  understanding  of  "  imitation  "  as  applied  to  all  art  as  well 
as  to  poetry.  "  Tragedy,  "  he  says,  "  is  an  imitation  of  a  worthy  or  illus- 
trious and  perfect  action,  possessing  magnitude,  in  pleasing  language,  using 
separately  the  several  species  of  imitation  in  its  parts,  by  men  acting  and 
not  through  narration,  and  through  pity  and  fear  effecting  a  purification  of 
such  like  passions.  "  What  Aristotle  means  in  claiming  that  the  influence 
of  tragedy  is  to  effect  a  "purification"  etc.,  has  been  much  discussed  ;  but 
in  view  of  his  opinions  upon  other  like  subjects,  it  ought  not  to  be  difficult 
to  determine.  He  holds,  for  instance,  that  punishment  is  justified  not  be- 
cause giving  a  man  what  he  deserves,  and  thus  satisfying,  as  some  Christian 
theologians  maintain,  an  individual,  corporate,  or  divine  sense  of  justice  ; 
but  because  giving  him  an  experience  fitted  to  reform  his  character. 
Notice,  among  other  passages,  a  reference  to  the  curative  agency  of 
punishment  in  the  "  Rhetoric,  "  I ;  14.  So  in  this  definition,  the  conception 
seems  to  be  that  tragedy  gives  a  man  an  experience  having  the  same 
reforming  or  purifying  tendency.  What  he  means  we  may  infer,  perhaps, 
from  a  modern  example  of  reform  wrought  through  literature.  When  we 
recall  the  Puritanism,  the  bigotry,  and  the  sectarianism  of  the  last  century, 
we  cannot  fail  to  contrast  them  with  the  humaneness  and  the  liberality  of 
thought  and  feeling  prevailing  in  our  own  times  ;  and,  if  we  ask  what  has 
wrought  the  change,  we  are  forced  to  ascribe  it,  very  largely,  to  the  influ- 
ence of  the  modern  novel.  Through  portrayals  of  people  entirely  dif- 
ferent in  motives,  manners,  customs,  and  characters  from  those  with  whom 
the  novel's  readers  have  associated,  these  readers  have  been  enabled  to  be- 
come well  acquainted  with  conditions  of  thought  and  of  life  foreign  to  their 
own.  The  effect  has  been  to  broaden  their  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of 
human  nature,  and  to  increase  almost  infinitely  their  sympathies  with  men 
of  "  all  sorts  and  conditions.  "  In  other  words  the  novel  has  given  mil- 
lions of  people  whose  real  experience,  perhaps,  has  been  necessarily  confined 


264  APPENDIX  III. 

to  the  narrow  limits  of  a  single  village,  a  substitute  in  the  way  of  an  imagina- 
tive experience  almost  as  effective  as  anything  obtained  by  actual  travel. 
That  one  normal  result  of  such  an  imaginative  experience  is  to  purify  mind 
and  heart  through  developing  wisdom  and  charity,  has  been  proved  by  the 
effects  which  can  unmistakably  be  traced  to  this  form  of  literature. 
Aristotle's  conception  seems  to  have  been  that  a  similar  result  could  be 
produced  by  tragedy.  This  conception,  as  will  be  noticed,  was  based  upon 
a  far  more  accurate,  not  to  say  modern,  view  of  the  legitimate  influence  of 
art  than  was  held  by  Plato,     Notice  what  is  said  on  pages  254  to  259. 

After  defining  tragedy,  as  just  indicated,  Aristotle  goes  on  in  Chapters  6 
to  12,  to  speak  of  its  form  and  end,  of  its  parts  and  plot,  of  its  length  and 
action,  and  of  the  unity  of  its  fable,  or  as  we  should  say,  its  story.  He  shows 
the  difference  between  history  and  poetry,  and  distinguishes  a  story  that 
is  simple  from  one  that  is  compound,  i.  e.,  he  distinguishes  the  development 
of  one  series  of  events  from  that  of  a  complicated  series  of  events.  After 
this,  as  far  as  to  chapter  22,  he  discusses  the  essentials  of  a  tragic  theme, 
the  characteristics  that  cause  terror  and  pity,  the  demeanour  of  the 
persons  in  the  play,  and  how  their  actions  should  appeal  to  the  knowledge, 
memory  and  reasoning  of  the  audience,  as  well  as  how  the  poet  should 
compose  by  feeling  and  seeing  what  he  writes,  and  should  express  himself 
suitably  and  tersely.  In  addition,  he  argues  that  the  poet  should  pay  re- 
gard to  sentiment  and  diction;  and  to  the  latter  as  manifested  not  only  in 
individual  syllables,  but  in  words,  and  in  these,  whether  conjunctions, 
articles,  nouns,  or  verbs,  and  whether  native  or  foreign,  derived,  invented 
or  changed,  as  well  as  whether  used  metaphorically  or  plainly,  or  whether 
singly  or  combined  in  phrases  and  sentences.  Diction,  he  says,  should  be 
characterized  by  clearness  and  freedom  from  meanness,  i.  e.,  by  dignity. 

In  the  chapters  following  22,  epic  poetry  is  discussed — its  character, 
parts,  power  of  extension,  metre,  etc.  "Homer,"  he  says,  "appears 
divine  when  compared  with  other  poets,  excelling  them  all  in  diction  and 
sentiment."  The  "  Iliad  "is  simple  and  pathetic,  the  "  Odessey  "  is  complex 
for  through  the  whole  of  it  there  is  discovery  and  moral.  The  twenty-fifth 
chapter  of  the  Poetics  is  devoted  to  removing  certain  objections  to  Homer ; 
and  the  twenty-sixth  chapter  to  weighing  the  respective  merits  of  tragic 
and  epic  poetry.  His  general  conclusion  is  that  tragic  poetry  is  the 
superior  of  the  two,  because  it  possesses  everything  that  the  epic  has  and 
more.  It  may  use  metre  and  may  also  use  music  and  scenery  ;  and  yet  it 
has  perspicuity,  both  when  read  and  when  acted,  and  has  more  unity  than 
the  epic.  The  end  of  the  tragic  form  of  imitation  too — and  here  we  may 
notice  the  influence  of  the  Hellenic  regard  for  simplicity  and  unity — is 
confined  within   a   narrow  compass.     This  causes  the  result  to  be  more 


THE  ESTHETICS  OF  ARISTOTLE,  265 

pleasing  than  if  the  course  of  the  action  were  diffused  through  a  longer 
period. 

Such,  in  brief,  is  the  general  line  of  thought  unfolded  by  Aristotle  in  his 
"  Rhetoric  "  and  "  Poetics  ";  and  it  accords  with  his  references  to  art  in  his 
other  works.  Our  chief  interest  in  these  works,  at  present,  lies  in  determining 
the  difference  between  what  he  really  said  in  them,  and  what  he  has  been 
represented  as  saying.  There  is  no  doubt  that  if  we  consider  only  his 
words,  we  shall  find  him  affirming  that  "  all  art  is  imitation."  But  if  we 
interpret  these  words  in  the  light  which  his  own  explanations  have  thrown 
upon  them,  it  is  possible  that  we  may  discover  that  what  he  meant  was  very 
different  from  that  which  superficial  reading  has  led  many  to  infer.  The 
remark  supposed  to  have  originated  with  Coleridge,  that  all  men  must  be 
either  Platonists  or  Aristotelians,  has  come  to  be  accepted  almost  as  a 
truism  ;  but  it  is  only  true  as  applied  to  the  mental  characteristics  of  the 
two  men — not  to  the  opinions  held  by  them.  While  Plato  undoubtedly 
represents  extreme  idealism,  Aristotle  by  no  means  represents  the  opposite, 
either  in  his  general  philosophic  system,  or  in  his  aesthetics.  Only  with  the 
latter,  however,  are  we  concerned  at  present.  The  attempt  to  make  him 
the  father  of  materialism  in  art  was  not  due  to  the  earlier  writers  either  in  or 
out  of  the  Christian  Church.  These  usually  recognized  his  idealism.  The 
attempt  began  in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  with  the  Abbe  Charles 
Batteau.  In  his  two  books,  one  the  "  Cour  de  Belles-Lettres  "  and  the 
other  "  Les  Beaux- Arts  Reduit  a  un  Meme  Principe,  "  books  in  which  he 
claimed  to  be  a  follower  of  Aristotle,  he  emphasized  much  more  than,  as 
we  shall  find,  Aristotle  himself  did,  the  imitative  character  of  art.  In 
doing  this,  he  was  followed  by  Voltaire,  Diderot,  and  Emeric  David,  and,  as 
already  indicated  on  pages  ill  and  112,  by  writers  like  Hazlitt  and  Sir 
Charles  Bell,  in  England.  But  only  in  recent  times  does  the  influence  of 
this  conception  of  art  seem  to  have  had  its  "  perfect  work.  "  What  certain 
modern  views  are,  both  in  Europe  and  our  own  country,  and  what  are  their 
effects,  have  been  already  brought  out  in  other  volumes  of  this  series  and 
need  not  be  repeated  here.  See  pages  xli-xlviii  of  this  volume,  pages  vi. 
and  vii.  of  "  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture  as  Representative  Arts,  " 
and  pages  xvi.-xxii.  and  235-237  of  "  Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry 
and  Music."  In  this  place,  it  is  sufficient  to  say — what  might  be  inferred 
without  reading  the  extravagant  statements  that  prove  it — that  the  general 
result  of  emphasizing  unduly  the  imitative  side  of  aesthetics  is  to  lead  men 
to  consider  art  merely  a  reproduction  of  reality  as  manifested  in  form,  and 
not  to  consider  it,  in  any  important  sense,  a  representation  of  ideality,  or  an 
expression  of  human  thought  and  feeling.  Is  there  anything  in  Aristotle's 
conception   of   art   as  imitation    to  justify    a   deduction  that  he  did  not 


266  APPENDIX  III, 

consider  it  to  be  an  expression  of  human  thought  and  feeling  ? — Strange  as 
it  may  appear  to  some,  nothing  whatever.  His  own  explanation  of  what  he 
meant  by  imitation  or  mimicry  {fxijj.rjdi'i)  includes  all  that  most  idealists 
would  desire  to  have  included  in  the  conception  of  that  which  art  should  do. 
"  Homer,"  says  Aristotle  (Chap.  2.),  "  imitates  better  men  than  exist,  "  and 
again,  in  Chap.  25.,  "the  poet,"  he  says,  "being  an  imitator,  like  the 
painter  or  any  other  artist,  must,  of  necessity,  always  imitate  one  of  three 
things, — either  such  as  they  were  or  are  ;  or  such  as  they  are  said  to  be  or 
appear  to  be  ;  or  such  as  they  ought  to  be  "  (Thomas  Taylor's  translation). 
If  the  conception  of  imitating  "better  things  than  exist,  "  or  things  "  as 
they  ought  to  be,  "  do  not  include  the  conception  of  ideal  representation, 
it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  this  conception  could  be  expressed  in  any 
words  whatever.  But  Aristotle  was  not  content  with  this  explanation  of 
what  he  meant  by  imitation.  The  larger  part  of  his  "  Poetics  "  is  devoted  to 
discussing  the  representation  of  ideas  through  poetic  form,  and  very  much 
of  it  to  the  representation  of  the  subject,  fable,  or  story — the  very  thing  the 
importance  of  which  those  who,  to-day,  claim  to  be  his  followers  are  accus- 
tomed to  depreciate.  Chapter  7,  for  instance,  treats  of  the  unity  of  the 
fable  ;  Chapter  g  of  the  differences  between  history  and  poetry,  and  how 
historic  matter  should  be  used  in  poetry.  Chapters  10  and  11  consider  the 
fable  as  either  simple  or  compound.  Chapter  12  discusses  the  parts  of  a 
tragedy  ;  Chapter  13  the  essentials  of  a  tragic  plot ;  and  Chapters  14  to  19 
the  methods  of  representing  terror,  pity,  etc.  All  these  applications  of 
the  principle  which  Aristotle  is  made,  in  modern  translations,  to  term 
imitation,  show  that  the  Greek  word  which  he  used  did  not  mean  exactly 
the  same  as  the  modern  word  through  which  we  translate  it.  One  cannot 
imitate  things  which  appear  to  be,  without  a  greater  use  of  his  imaginative 
powers  ;  nor  imitate  things  as  they  ought  to  be  without  a  greater  use  of  his 
moral  powers,  than  is  implied  in  our  word  imitate.  In  what  sense  then 
did  Aristotle  use  the  word  ?  There  may  be  two  answers  to  this  :  He  may 
have  used  it  in  a  similar  sense  to  our  own  ;  but  have  given  the  word  a 
broader  application  than  we  do.  He  may  have  used  it  to  indicate  the 
copying  not  merely  of  a  whole  product,  to  which  we  refer  when  we  use  the 
term,  but  to  indicate  the  copying  of  any  small  part  of  a  whole  product,  and 
therefore  of  different  parts  of  diflferent  whole  products,  from  which  parts, 
when  combined  together,  the  artist  could  secure  an  entirely  new  product — 
a  product  representing,  not  that  which  was,  but  that  which  appeared  to  be 
or  ought  to  be.  But  this  is  exactly  the  work  of  the  constructive  imagina- 
tion attributed  to  the  artist  by  the  idealist.  See  pages  3,  4,  90-95  of  this 
volume.  Again,  however,  we  may  suppose  that  Aristotle  in  usmg  the  term 
imitation  meant  to  express  the  thought  which  we  should  express  by  using 


THE  ESTHETICS  OF  ARISTOTLE.  267 

the  term  imaging.  Either  supposition  of  his  meaning  would  involve  the 
same  interpretation  of  his  theory.  It  is  this  :  in  art,  imitation  or  imaging 
is  a  means  not  an  end, — a  means  of  representing  through  accurate  imitations 
or  images  of  external  objects  that  which  is,  or  appears  to  be,  or  ought  to 
be.  This  seems  to  be  the  only  fair  interpretation  to  be  put  upon  Aristotle's 
word  ;  and  this  interpretation  reveals  at  once  the  depth  and  the  compre- 
hensiveness of  his  aesthetic  insight.  It  would  be  difficult  in  a  single  term 
to  describe  art,  especially  poetic  art,  which  Aristotle  in  this  treatise  was 
discussing,  more  accurately.  When  we  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject, 
that  which  distinguishes  prose  from  poetry  is  that  the  latter  influences  us 
through  the  use  of  imitation  or  through  imaging.  As  shown  on  pages  208 
to  212  of  •'  Poetry  as  a  Representative  Art,  "  we  can  present  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  which  an  appearance  of  nature  suggest,  in  plain  language, 
i.  e. ,  in  prose,  if  we  choose.  But  if  so,  we  do  not  present  them  artistically, 
or  poetically.  We  do  the  latter  only  when  we  repeat  the  methods  of 
nature,  and  re-present  that  which  nature  presents.  Just  as  we  re-present 
the  natural  inflections  of  the  voice  in  musical  melody,  the  figures  and  scenes 
of  nature  in  painting  and  sculpture,  so  in  poetry,  we  re-present  through 
descriptive  or  figurative  language.  In  one  sense  it  is  true,  as  the  modern 
so-called  Aristotelians  tell  us,  that  the  effects  of  art,  even  in  poetry,  do  not 
depend  upon  the  subject.  They  depend  upon  the  appeal  which  the  subject 
makes  to  the  imagination,  and  this  depends  upon  the  iniaging,  or  upon 
what  Aristotle  terms  the  imitation.  At  times,  but  only  at  times,  the  subject 
itself  is  such  that  necessarily,  the  moment  it  is  presented,  the  imagination 
thinks  of  a  picture.  At  other  times  this  is  not  the  case.  When  it  is  not, 
the  poet,  through  the  use  of  imitative  or  imaging  language,  or,  as  we  say, 
of  figurative  language,  must  make  the  different  parts  of  the  subject  seem 
picturesque.  But  all  this  is  discussed  and  explained  in  Chapters  XVIII.  and 
XIX.  of  "  Poetry  as  a  Representative  Art."  At  present,  it  is  necessary 
merely  to  direct  attention  to  the  general  fact.  It  remains  to  be  observed 
only  that  if  what  has  been  said  be  true  of  poetry,  it  must  be  much  more 
true  of  painting  and  sculpture,  in  which  imaging  through  the  use  of 
natural  appearances  is  much  more  unmistakable. 

But  if,  in  this  paper,  the  right  interpretation  have  been  given  to  the  term 
imitation  as  used  by  Aristotle,  it  follows  that  there  is  nothing  in  his 
theory  to  justify  the  inferences  of  modern  so-called  Aristotelians  ;  nor,  in 
view  of  what  is  advanced  on  pages  257  to  259,  is  there  anything  in  this  theory 
to  which  a  Platonist,  without  sacrificing  anything  really  essential  to  the 
consistency  of  his  own  system,  might  not  fully  subscribe. 


INDEX. 


Absolute  Beauty,  1 24-1 26. 
Academie  des  Beaux  Arts,  8. 
Accuracy,  xxii-xxix. 
Adaptability,  as  an  element  of  beauty, 

176,  177. 
Aesthetica,    Baumgarten,   102,    iii, 

175. 
/Esthetic  Arts,  kinds  of,  9,  10. 
Esthetic,    History    of,    Bosanquet, 

117,  130,  174. 

/Esthetics,term,  9, 102, 104, 105;  Aris- 
totle's, 261-267;  Plato's,  249-260. 

/Esthetics,  Essays  on,  Hegel,  37,  50, 
60,  115,  178,  179  ;  On  the  Possi- 
bility of  a  Science  of.  Sully,  168  ; 
Or  Science  of  Beauty,  Bascom, 
93.  114,  178  ;  Outlines  of,  Lotze, 
117,  246;  Physiological,  Allen, 
71,  113;  Science  of.  Day,  93; 
Studies  in  Psychology  and.  Sully, 
71,  124,  173  ;  The  Field  of.  Psy- 
chologically Considered,  Article  in 
"  Mind,"    1892,    Marshall,    246. 

Aesthetik,  Camera,  1 16,  175  ;  von 
Hartmann,  118,  129,  173  ;  Hegel, 
37,  50,60,115,  I78.i79;jungmann, 
124,  130,  173  ;  Schelling,  70,  115  ; 
von  Schlegel,  175,  177;  Vischer, 
115,  179;  Metaphysik  des  Schonen 
und,  Schopenhauer,  114  ;  Neder- 
landische,  von  Vloten,  118,  174, 
178  ;  System  der,  Krause,  175  ;  der, 
etc.,  Weisse,  130,  175  ;  Vorlesun- 
gen  liber,  Solger,  113,  177;  Vor- 
schule  der,  Fechner,  116. 

Aesthetische,  Erziehung  des  Men- 
schen,  Briefe  iiber,  Schiller,  71, 
118  ;  Forschungen,  Zeising,  113  ; 
Populaire  aesthetische  Beshouwin- 
gen,  Flock,  1 12. 


Agassiz,  4. 

Alberti,  21. 

Alciphron,  or  the  Minute  Philoso- 
pher, Berkeley,  114. 

Alison,  A.,  113,  124,  177. 

Allen,  G.,  71,  113. 

AUgemeine  Theorie  der  Schonen 
Kiinste,  Sulzer,  iii,  175. 

Alliteration,  53,  152. 

Alphen,  H.  van,  70,  124,  175. 

Amiel,  H.  F.,  114. 

Analysis  of  Beauty,  Hogarth,  174. 

Anatomy  and  Philosophy  of  Ex- 
pression, Bell,  112. 

Ancient  Mariner,  The,  152. 

Andre,  P.,  124. 

Anfangsgrlinde  der  Schonen  Wissen- 
schaften,  Meier,  175. 

Angelo,  M.,  Preface  v,  23,  30,  79, 
108. 

Animal  as  distinguished  from  man, 
12-14,  65-67,  72,  73. 

Apelles,  39. 

Appearance,  An,  as  beautiful  in  itself, 
120 ;  essential  in  higher  art,  8,  9  ; 
a  synonym  for  form,  9,   See  Form. 

Appearances  of  Nature,  as  exerting 
effects  within  the  mind,  185-228  ; 
necessary  to  art,  49,  55,  63,  81-96  ; 
representation  of,  in  architecture, 
94-96  ;  representation  in  art  as 
determined  by,  6,  106-122  ;  repre- 
sentation of  thought  in  art,  as  de- 
termined by,  67,  68,  81-96  ;  re- 
produced in  art,  6,  15,  17.  See 
Form, 

Applied  arts,  3,  9  ;  higher,  143. 
A    Propos    d'un    Cheval,    Causeries 
Atheniennes,  Cherbuliez,  116. 

Architectura,  de,  Vitruvius,  no. 


269 


270 


ART  IN    THEORY, 


Architecture,  Bloody  Mary  Style,  25; 
clasi;ed  with  higher  arts,  92-96  ; 
composition  in,  54,  240,  241  ; 
correspondence  to  music,  94,  227, 
228,  240,  241  ;  Corinthian,  26  ; 
Crazy  Jane  Style,  25  ;  developed 
from  natural  appearances,  94-96 
— from  use  of  the  hands,  14,  85- 
87,  238-240 — from  within  the 
mind  without  conscious  imitation, 

227,  228,  240,  241 — through  repe- 
tition, 54 ;  early  development  of, 
189  ;  forms  of,  how  influenced  by 
nature,  94-96,  187,  227,  228,  240, 
241  ;  Gothic,  Preface  iii,  24,  26  ; 
Greek,  Preface  iii,  24  ;  ideas  in 
the  mind  of  its  artist,  as  related  to 
influence  from  without,  199,  226- 

228,  234  ;  imitation  of  styles. 
Preface  iii-v,  32  ;  imitation  of 
nature  in,  38,  43-45,94-96,  227 — 
why  slight,  240,  241  ;  indefinite- 
ness  of  expression  in,  239,  240 ; 
instinctive,  234  ;  mental  condition 
underlying,  195,  objective,  235  ; 
Queen  Anne  Style,  25  ;  rank  of 
different  styles  of,  31  ;  representa- 
tion in,  43,  94-96,  104,  239,  240 ; 
reflective  tendency  expressed  in, 
232,  233,  234,  238  ;  revivals  of 
styles  in,  24  ;  technical  as  well  as 
aesthetic,  93  ;  thought  in,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  that  in  painting 
and  sculpture,  239  ;  treatment  of 
subject  in,  54,  240,  241  ;  styles  of, 
as  developed  one  from  another, 
26,  31  ;  styles  best  at  their  middle 
period,  32  ;  spontaneous  action  of 
the  mind  in,  239  ;  subjective,  234  ; 
'justained  character  of  action  in, 
239  ;  useful  as  well  as  aesthetic,  93. 

Architecture,  History  of,  Fergusson, 
102,  176  ;  of  Modern,  Fergusson, 
22,  93. 

Aristotelian,  115,180;  theory,and  the 
Platonic,  180-184,  255,  265,  267. 

Aristotelians,  no,  162. 

Aristotle,  Preface  v,  35,  39,  in, 
123,  127,  174,  255,  261-267. 

Art,  as  distinguished  from  nature, 
1-6  ;  definition  of,  3,  5,  6  ;  judged 
by  its  effects,  78-80 ;  not  the  ex- 


pression of  the  spirit  of  the  age, 
iii,  iv;  not  archeology,  v;  not  all 
interesting  to  artist,  iv ;  vs.  re- 
ligion, XX,  xxi,  xxxii-li  ;  vs.  sci- 
ence, xx-xxiii,  xxxii-1. 

Art,  Essays  on,  Palgrave,  1 19;  Its 
Laws  and  the  Reasons  for  them. 
Long,  4,  112;  Ten  Lectures  on, 
Poynter,  1 19;  Theory  of  Fine,  Tor- 
rey,  177;  Thoughtson,  Dobell,  175. 

Articulation,  as  developed  in  art,  84, 
85  ;  not  needed  in  expressing  in- 
definite ideas,  as  by  brute  or  in 
music,  204,  205,  207,  231. 

Art  Impulse,  The,  63,  69-80. 

Artisan,  16,  21. 

Artis,  Sententige,  Quilter.  178. 

Artist,  16,  21 ;  how  far  conscious,  xlv. 

Artlessness,  1. 

Art,  L*,  Signes  Inconditionnels  de, 
De  Superville,  112. 

Art  Poetique,  Boileau,  177. 

Art  Product,  3,  8. 

Arts,  development  of  the  different, 
in  their  order,  considered  histori- 
cally, 188-192 — physiologically, 
196-202  —  psychologically,  203- 
228  ;  considered  in  analogy  to  dif- 
ferent individual  expressions  for 
parts  of  a  series  of  events,  192- 
195  ;  kinds  of,  9  ;  Fine,  and  their 
Uses,  Bellars,  112 ;  The  Fine, 
Brown,  72 — Coleridge,  12,  115 — 
Hazlitt,  112  ;  Half-Hour  Lectures 
on  the  History  and  Practice  of, 
Scott,  175  ;  Les  Beaux,  7,  10, 
104  ;  The  Higher,  classification  of, 
8-15,  97-105  ;  The  Higher 
^Esthetic,  104,  105  ;  The  or  the 
Fine,  7,  8,  10,  104  ;  The  Repre- 
sentative, 101-105  ;  summary  of 
the,  as  developed  from  methods  of 
expression,  243. 

Assimilation,  as  an  element  of  pleas- 
ure and  of  beauty,  245-248. 

Association  of  ideas,  as  suggested  by 
art-effects,  41  ;  by  that  which,  for 
this  reason,  has  beauty,  113,  124, 
177,  180,  245,  246. 

Association,  the  method  of,  as  under- 
lying representation  in  art,  205, 
206,  210,   227,   228  ;  its  function 


INDEX. 


271 


in  the  formation  of  words,  214- 
216 ;  in  music,  205-207,  210, 
211  ;  in  poetry,  205  ;  in  architec- 
ture, 180,  227,  228  ;  its  relation 
to  comparison,  205,  206,  227,  228, 
230 — to  imagination,  230. 

Assonance,  152. 

Assyrian  art,  18,  29. 

Audible  expression,  242. 

Augustine,  St.,  114.  174. 

Austrian  National  Hymn,  133. 

Bach,  S.,  22. 

Bagpipe,  133. 

Bain,  A.,  71,  246. 

Baldwin,  J.  M.,  117,  245,  246. 

Ballads,  Border  Minstrel,  Scott.  28. 

Bascom,  J.,  93,  114,  178. 

Batteux,  C,  iii,  127. 

Baumgarten,  A.  G.,  102,  iii,  127,175 

Beardsley,  xxviii,  xxix. 

Beattie,  J.,  176. 

Beau,  De  I'universalite  du,  etc.,  De 
Quincy,  114,  175  ;  Du,  dans  la 
Nature.  I'Art  et  la  Poesie,  Pic- 
tet,  70,  114;  Du  Vrai,  du,  et  du 
Bien,  Cousin,  114,  175  ;  Essai 
sur  le,  Andre,  124  ;  La  Science  du, 
Leveque,  115  ;  L'Idee  du,  etc., 
Vallet,  118,  127,  173,  175  ;  Traite 
du,  de  Crousaz,  124,  174. 

Beaute,  Diderot,  iii,  124. 

Beautiful,  The,  Essays  on,  and  the 
Sublime,  Kedney,  130  ;  in  Nature, 
Art,  and  Life,  Symington,  115  ; 
the  Picturesque,  and  the  Sublime, 
On  the,  Mac  Vicar,  109,  130,  159, 
175  ;  Theory  of  the,  Todhunter, 
178  ;  The  Sublime  and  the, 
Burke,  70,  m,  162. 

Beauty,  Essays  on,  ^Esthetics  or 
Science  of,  Bascom,  93,  114,  178  ; 
Essay  on,  Jeffrey.  113,  177  ;  Dis- 
course on,  Blackie,  115  ;  Propor- 
tion, or  the  Geometric  Principles 
of,  Hay,  112;  Science  of,  as  De- 
veloped in  Nature  and  Applied  in 
Art,  Hay, 174;  Science  of,  Holmes- 
Forbes,  176;  The  Spirit  of,  Par- 
ker, 75. 

Beauty,  the  principle.  Preface  vi, 
64,  69,  83-85,  106  ;   as  absolute, 


124-126 ;  as  adaptability,  176, 246  ; 
as  an  effect  produced  on  the  senses, 
71,  111-113,  129,  132-147,  151, 
161,  162 — and  through  the  senses 
on  the  mind,  151-153,  156-159, 
161,  162,  170,  246  ;  as  a  direct  in- 
tuition, 128,  129  ;  as  appealing  to 
the  sympathies,  179,  iSo ;  as  a 
result  of  association,  116,  124, 
177,  180,  246  ;  as  a  result  of 
harmony  or  likeness  of  effects, 
131-180,  246-248  ;  as  complete, 
121,  125,  126,  134,  162,  184  ;  as 
dependent,  125  ;  as  derived,  125  ; 
as  divine,  124  ;  as  emotive  force, 
173,  174  ;  as  essential,  124  ;  as  ex- 
pressive, 151-160  ;  as  free,  125  ;  as 
ideal,  134  (see  Platonists) ;  as  inex- 
pressive, 109,  159  ;  as  inherent,  126, 
128  ;  as  in  the  female  form  only, 
179  ;  as  intrinsic,  124-126  ;  as  life, 
178  ;  as  natural,  124,  125  ;  as  ob- 
jective, 126-130  ;  as  original,  125, 
126  ;  as  perfection,  175  ;  as  per- 
sonality, 179  ;  as  pleasurable,  70, 
180,  245  ;  as  relative,  123-126  ;  as 
significant,  1 51-160 ;  as  subjective, 
126-130  ;  as  symbolic,  177  ;  as  the 
fitting,  176,  177  ;  as  the  good, 
176,  177  ;  as  the  true,  176,  177  ; 
as  typical,  124,  126  (see  Plato- 
nists) ;  as  utility,  176;  as  vital 
force,  178,  179;   ascribed  to  color, 

120,  133,  136 — to  expression,  153 
— to  form,  110-113,  120,  133 — to 
form   and    significance,    116-119, 

121,  122 — to  significance,  113- 
116,  121,  133,  151-160;  complex- 
ity, an  element  of,  in  sound,  line, 
color,  and  significance,  134-136, 
159,  160,  247;  defined,  161-171, 
173-184,  246  ;  dependent  on 
physical  organs,  1 35-142  ;  dis- 
tinguished from  the  sublime,  bril- 
liant, and  picturesque,  162,  163 — 
from  mere  pleasure  of  the  senses 
or  of  the  mind,  246-248  ;  mani- 
fested in  time  or  grace,  163  ;  in 
space  or  form,  163  ;  natural,  as 
stimulating  the  imitation  charac- 
teristic of  the  art-impulse,  83-85 ; 
natural,    definition    of,  163,  164, 


272 


ART  IN   THEORY, 


166,  167  ;  proportionate  amount 
of  natural,  in  a  work  of  art,  83, 
107-109  ;  recognized  by  the  mind, 
134,  144 — even  when  only  in 
form,  142-147 — also  by  the  senses, 
134  ;  source  of,  in  mind  or  nature, 
183 — in  poetry,  152  ;  theories  con- 
cerning, 106-130,  172-184,  245- 
248,  255-258. 

Beaux-  Arts,  8,  104. 

Beaux- Arts,  Les,  Batteux,  iii. 

Beethoven,  Preface  v,  vii,  26,  44. 

Bellars,  W.,  I12,  127. 

Bell,  C,  112. 

Belles-Lettres,  8,  105. 

Belles-Lettres,  Essay  on,  Cours  de, 
Batteux,  iii. 

Bello,  Trattatodel,  Gioberti,  70, 178; 
Letteratura  e  Arti  Belle,  Rosmini- 
Serbati,  115,  130. 

Bellori,  J.  P.,  114. 

Bergmann,  J.,  129. 

Berkeley,  G,,  114. 

Bernard,  J.  H.,  log,  129,  150. 

Bible,  Coleridge's  test  of  its  inspira- 
tion, 179  ;  why  music  symbolizes 
heaven  in,  209. 

Biographia  Literaria,  Coleridge,  175. 

Blackie,  J.  S.,  115. 

Blackwood's  Magazine,  39,  186. 

Blanc,  C,  118,  129. 

Bloody  Mary  Style  Architecture,  25. 

Boileau-Despreaux,  N.,  177. 

Bosanquet,  B.,  117,  130,  174. 

Bramante,  21. 

Briefe  liber  die  aesthetische  Erzie- 
hung  des  Menschen,  Schiller,  71, 
118. 

Brilliant,  The,  distinguished  from  the 
sublime  and  picturesque,  162,  163. 

Brown,  G.  B,  72,  108. 

Brown,  T.,  70,  113,  124,  177. 

Browning,  R.,  28,  158. 

Brunelleschi,  21. 

Buffier,  Pere,  124. 

Burke,  E.,  70,  ill,  127,  162. 

Campbell,  155. 
Carlyle,  T.,  177. 
Carriere,  M.,  116,  175. 
Cathedrals,  Gothic,  20  ;  imitation  of, 
24. 


Chaucer,  23,  28. 

Cherbuliez,  C.  V.,  116. 

China,  art  of,  27. 

Christian  art,  early,  21,  29,  30,  152. 

Cimabue,  79. 

Classic  age  of  i8th  century,  23  ; 
criticism  of  same,  23  ;  tendency  in 
art,  18-33  >  languages,  xxxv-vi. 

Classicism,  as  related  to  conceptions 
of  beauty,  no — to  imitations  of 
art-forms  and  subjects,  20,  no. 

Classification,  118;  basis  of  art  as 
of  science,  166-168. 

Claude  Lorraine,  23,  39,  154. 

Coleridge,  S.   T.,    12,  38,  115,  152, 

175,  179. 
Color,  beauty  ascribed  to,  120,  133, 
136,  163  ;  complementary,  139, 
140 ;  effects  of,  recognized  by  the 
mind  as  well  as  senses,  149  ;  har- 
mony of,  133,  136,  1 39-141  ;  tone 

139. 

Combined,  as  applied  to  use  of 
natural  appearances  in  art,  3. 

Communication  of  thought  or  feel- 
ing, not  the  object  of  art,  47-61. 

Comparison,  the  method  of,  as 
underlying  representation  in  art, 
205,  206,  212-216,  218  ;  con- 
trasted with  association,  205,  206, 
227,  228,  230  ;  its  function  in 
the  formation  of  words,  214-216 — 
in  oratory,  218 — in  poetry,  205, 
212-216  ;  its  relation  to  associa- 
tion, 205,  206,  227,  228,  230 — to 
contrast,  219,  220,  230,  231 — to 
imagination,  57,  230,  231, 

Complementary  colors,  139,  140. 

Complexity,  as  an  element  of  beauty, 
12,  134-137,  247,  248  ;  producing 
effects  of  harmony  upon  the  mind, 
142-147,  149,  150,  154,  247,  248— 
upon  mind  and  organs  of  eye  and 
ear,  156-160 — upon  organs  of  eye 
and  ear,  138-142 — in  poetry,  152. 

Composite  Architecture,  31. 

Composition,  in  art,  51-54,  88-96; 
table  of  its  methods,  165. 

Contrast,  and  ugliness,  as  elements 
of  beauty,  107-109,  157,  158; 
consciousness  of,  as  a  factor  in  art, 
217-228 — between  ideas  and  in- 


INDEX. 


273 


fluence  from  without,  in  landscape 
gardening,  223 — in  arts  of  sight, 
especially  painting,  222,  224  ;  its 
relation  to  comparison,  219,  220, 
230,  231 — to  imagination,  230,  231. 

Cook,  F.,  79. 

Copernicus,  Preface  v. 

Corinthian  Architecture,  26,  31. 

Corot,  II. 

Correggio,  23. 

Coster,  G.  H.  de,  175. 

Costuming,  as  an  art,  98,  99. 

Coupland,  W.  C,  151,  180. 

CoursdeBelles-Lettres,  Batteux,  iii. 

Coursd'Esthetique,  Jouffroy,  70, 115, 

179. 
Cousin,  v.,  114,  175. 
Crazy  Jane,  Architectural  Style,  25. 
Creation,  no  such  thing,  in  art,  3. 
Creative,  The,  in  art,  59-61, 
Critical  Exposition  of  Hegel's  yEsthe- 

tics,  Kedney,  37,  50,  163. 
Criticism,   Historic,    Preface   iii-v  ; 

Essay  on,  Pope,  154. 
Critic  of  Judgment,  Kant,  70,  109, 

115-120,  129,  130,  150,  174. 
Crousaz,  J.  P.  de,  124,  174. 
Curve,  why  beautiful,  136. 
Cushman,  C,  158. 

Dallas,  E.  S.,  34,  35,  70,  180. 
Dancing  as  an  art,   15,  98,  99,  loi, 

142. 
Dante,  23. 

Darwin,  C,  71,  II3,   119,  178. 
Darwin,  E.,  71,  178. 
Das   Wesen   und    die    Formen   der 

Poesie,  Carriere,  116. 
David,  II. 
Day,  H.  N,,  93. 
De    Apto    et    Pulchro,    Augustine, 

114. 
De  Architectura,  Vitruvius,  iii. 
Decoration,  or 
Decorative  Art,    15,  100-104,  242  ; 

of  China  and  Japan,  27. 
De  rUniversalite  du  Beau  et  de  la 

Maniere  de  1' Entendre,  De  Quin- 

cy,  114,  175. 
De  Quincy,  A.  C.  Q.,  114,  175. 
Descent  of  Man,  The,  Darwin,   71, 

113.  178. 


Description  in  Poetry  should  be  illus- 
trative, not  botanic  or  topographi- 
cal, 221. 

Deserted  Village,  155. 

Design,  5,6;  arts  of,  9. 

Design,  Lectures  on,  Opie,  15, 
192. 

De  Socratische  School,  Van  Hensde, 

115. 

Dessin,  Grammaire  des  Arts  du, 
Blanc,  118,  129. 

Devil,  tormenting  St.  Anthony,  4. 

Dewey,  J.,  117. 

Dictionnaire  des  Sciences  des  Lettres 
et  des  Arts,  8. 

Diderot,  D.,  iii,  124,  127. 

Die  Lehre  von  der  Tonempfindungen, 
etc.,  Helmholtz,  113. 

Die  Welt  als  Wille  und  Vorstellung, 
Schopenhauer,  70,  114. 

Discours,  De  Quincy,  114,  175. 

Discourses  before  the  Royal  Aca- 
demy, Reynolds,  4  ;  on  Beauty, 
Blackie,  115  ;  on  Painting,  Rey- 
nolds, 38,  39,  223,  226. 

Divine,  The,  faculty,  61  ;  in  art, 
59-61. 

Dobell,  S.,  175. 

Doric  Architecture,  26,  31. 

Drama,  The  English,  20. 

Dramatic  Art,  breadth  of  range,  98, 
99  ;  effects  of  Browning,  Hugo, 
and  Wagner,  27,  28  ;  why  not 
ranked  with  highest  arts,  98,  99, 
loi,  102. 

Dramatics,  15,  99. 

Dramatizing  in  sports  of  children, 
72,  73. 

Drawing,  School  of,  8. 

Dreams,  60,  144. 

Du  Beau  dans  la  Nature,  I'Art  et  la 
Poesie,  Pictet,  70,  114. 

Du  Bos,  Abbe,  7,  238. 

Durand,  D.,  108. 

Du  Vrai,  du  Beau  et  du  Bien,  Cou- 
sin, 114,  175. 

Dwight,  J.  S.,  207,  210. 


Ear,  aesthetic  effects  on.  See  Senses. 
Ecole  des  Beaux-Arts,  8. 
Effective,  art,  when  most,  16. 


274 


ART  IN  THEORY. 


Effects,  art  inspiration,  as  judged  by, 
78-80;  beauty,  judged  by,  130, 
132-134,  172,  173 ;  combination 
and  number  of,  measures  the 
aesthetic  influence,  160,  247,  248  ; 
emotive,  are  strongest  in  music, 
weakest  in  architecture,  200-202  ; 
harmony  of,  in  beauty,  161,  162, 
246-248  ;  harmony  between  formal 
and  mental,  153-155  ;  of,  beauty, 
experienced  in  the  mind,  144  ;  of 
harmony,  how  produced  in  the 
mind,  153-156  ;  of  mind  upon 
nature,  necessary  to  art,  51,  56-61, 
62  ;  and  of  nature  upon  the  mind, 
41,  42,  56-62  ;  of  natural  appear- 
ances exerted  upon  the  mind,  185, 
186  ;  what  meant  by  harmony  of 
mental,  153  ;  unity  of,  137. 

Effect,  the  criterion  of  art  excellence, 
78-80,  235. 

Egyptian  art,  18,  29. 

Ejaculatory  utterance,  205. 

Elaboration    of    form    in    art,     its 

,  method,  51-54,  59,  240,  241. 

Element  de  I'Esthetique  Generale, 
De  Coster,  175, 

Elements  of  Criticism,  Karnes,  120, 
124,  128,  176. 

Ellis,  22. 

Elocution,  14,  242  ;  why  not  a  higher 
art,  98,  99,  loi. 

Elzheimer,  39. 

Emeric-David,  iii,  127. 

Emilius,  P.,  79. 

Emotions,  continuous,  and  underly- 
ing all  expression,  206,  207  ;  in- 
fluence of,  upon  music,  poetry,  and 
oratory,  219  ;  most  influenced  and 
influencing  in  music,  200-202  ; 
music,  the  language  of  the,  207- 
212,  234.  See  Feelings  and  Ex- 
pression. 

Emotions,  The,  McCosh,  119. 

Emotive  Force,  as  an  element  of 
beauty,  162,  T78  ;  its  tendency  in 
all  art  is  to  combine  the  instinctive 
and  reflective,  233,  234  ;  giving 
expression  to  soul,  234. 

Encyclopedie,  iii,  124. 

End  of  material  utility  not  that  of 
art,  66. 


English,  classic  literature,  27,  28  ; 
painting,  30 — termed  literary,  30. 

Engraving,  School  of,  8, 

Enoch  Arden,  155. 

Essai  sur  le  Beau,  Andre,  124. 

Essay  or 

Essays,  on  Art,  Palgrave,  119;  on 
Beauty,  Jeffrey,  113,  177;  on 
Criticism,  Pope,  154  ;  on  Some 
Subjects  Connected  with  Taste, 
Mackenzie,  172  ;  on  Taste,  ( ierard, 
174,  176  ;  Shenstone,  174  ;  on  the 
Beautiful,  the  Picturesque,  and  the 
Sublime,  MacVicar,  109,  130,  159, 
175  ;  on  the  Fine  Arts,  Coleridge, 
12,  115 — Hazlitt,  112  ;  on  the  In- 
tellectual Powers,  Reid,  119,  128  ; 
on  the  Nature  and  Principles  of 
Taste,  Alison,  113,  177;  on  the 
Origin  and  Function  of  Music, 
Spencer,  238:  on  the  Sublime,  and 
Beautiful,  Burke,  70,  iii,  162  ; 
on  Truth,  Beattie,  176  ;  Specula- 
tive and  Suggestive,  Symonds,  119. 

Esthetique,  Cours  d',  Jouffroy,  70, 
115,  179  ;  Ele'ments  d',  Generale, 
De  Coster,  175  ;  L'Esthetique, 
Veron,  71, 129  ;  Les  Problemes  de 
r,  Contemporaine,  Guyau,  75, 
178. 

Ethics,  Prolegomena  to.  Green,  117. 

Euripides,  79. 

Excess  of  energy,  the  source  of  art, 
75,  76,  85,  86.  ^ 

Execution  versus  invention  in  paint- 
ing, 31. 

Expressional  factors  emphasized  in 
art,  50,  51,  58,  59,  85,  86. 

Expression,  at  variance  with  beauty, 
109,  159  ;  beauty  of,  its  meaning, 
153 — its  existence,  108,  109,  121  ; 
connected  with  use  of  an  external 
product,  87-96  ;  in  art,  47-61,  64, 
1 51-160  ;  in  connection  with  imi- 
tation, 3,  36,  82,  167,  168  ;  in  ro- 
mantic architecture,  25  ;  in  sym- 
bolic and  romantic  art,  18  ;  of 
thought  and  feeling,  14,  16,  17, 
63,  81-96  ;  representative,  55  ; 
tabulated,  242,  243  ;  tested,  in 
what  way,  Preface  vii.  See  Sig- 
nificance. 


INDEX, 


275 


External  medium  of  representation, 
why  necessary  in  arts  of  sight,  222  ; 
product,  necessary  to  the  concep- 
tion of  the  highest  arts,  87-92, 
98,  99. 

Eye,  aesthetic  effects  on.  See 
Senses. 

Faerie  Queen,  22,  155, 

Faust,  Gounod,  26. 

Fechner,  G.  T.,  116. 

Feeling,  as  conjured  by  imagination 
in  connection  with  sense-percep- 
tion, 150-152,  156-160  ;  deter- 
mined by  vibrations  of  nerves,  145- 
147,  245-248  ;  expression  of,  15, 
17,  47-61,  81-96.  See  Emotions, 
Emotive,  and  Expression. 

Fergusson,  J.,  22,  93,  102    176. 

Fielding,  H.,  1 1. 

Figurative,  earliest  expression  of 
definite  thought,  195  ;  the  lan- 
guage of  poetry,  193,  212-216, 
why  used,  212,  214. 

Fine  Arts,  and  Their  Uses,  Bellars, 
112  ;  The,  Brown,  72  — Coleridge, 
12, 115— Hazlitt,  112. 

Fitting,  the,  as  an  element  of  beauty, 
176,  177. 

Flock,  H.  G.  A.  L.,  112,  127. 

Force,  as  related  to  art,  242. 

Form  and  Sound,  Purdie,  113. 

Form,  9  ;  as  developed  in  each  art 
by  repetition,  52-54  ;  as  devel- 
oped into  an  external  product,  88- 
96  ;  as  developed  out  of  an  ob- 
jective mode  of  expression,  94  ; 
as  emphasized  in  classic  art,  18, 
and  in  realistic  19  ;  beauty 
ascribed  to,  110-113,  120,  133, 
134  ;  beauty  denied  to,  120  ;  beauty 
of,  recognized  by  the  mind,  142, 

149,  150;  conjured  in  the  mind 
by  imagination  in  connection  with 
some  like  form  perceived  without, 

150,  151  ;  even  when  beautiful  in 
self,  may  not  seem  so  on  account 
of  effects  upon  the  mind,  156-158  ; 
imitating  other  art-forms,  21  ;  in 
art  influenced  by  the  action  of  the 
mind  upon  nature,  186,  187  ;  also 
determined  by  natural  principles 


of  formation,  94,  183  ;  in  music, 
treated  by  Wagner,  26  ;  in  poetry 
as  influenced  by  natural  expression, 
212  ;  natural  appearances  not  the 
first  source  of  imitation  in,  183  ; 
not  always  determined  in  art  by 
the  form  in  which  it  comes  from 
nature,  186,  187;  theory  of  beauty 
as  pertaining  to  it,  111-113,  120, 
121  ;  vs.  significance,  xli-xlviii. 
See  Appearances. 

Franklin,  B.,  79. 

Freedom  of  thought  in  connection 
with  music,  and  all  art,  207-210. 

French,  northern  architecture  of, 
155  ;  painting,  its  technique,  30. 

Frothingham,  E.,  107. 

Fuseli,  H.,  38,  120,  174. 

Gardener's  Daughter,  The,  155. 

Gautama,  Preface  v. 

Gay  Science,  The,  Dallas,  34,  70,180. 

Gerard,  A.,  174,  176. 

Gertrude  of  Wyoming,  155. 

Geschichte  der  bildenden  Kiinste, 
Schnaase,  174 ;  der  Kunst  des 
Alterthums,  Winckelmann,     120. 

173. 
Gilpin,  W.,  Ill,  127. 
Gioberti,  V.,  70,  178. 
Gluck,  22. 
Goethe,   Preface  v,  11,  23,  27,  118, 

155 
Goldsmith,  O.,  155. 
Good,  The,  as  the  beautiful,  176. 
Gothic  architecture.  Preface  iii,  20- 

22,  24,  26  ;    cathedrals,  imitation 

of,  24. 
Gounod,  26. 
Gout,  Voltaire,   iii. 
Grace,  163. 
Grammaire  des  Arts  du  Dessin,  Blanc, 

118,  129. 
Grant,  U.  S.,  212,  220. 
Grecian  architecture,  Preface  iii,  24, 

31. 
Greece,  21,  29,  30. 
Greek  art,  19,  21,  154  ;  artists,  224 ; 

statues,  225. 
Green,  T.  H.,  117. 
Guido,  II. 
Guyau,  J.  M.,  75,  178, 


276 


ART  IN   THEORY. 


Half-Hour  Lectures  on  the  History 
and  Practice  of  the  Fine  and 
Ornamental  Arts,  Scott,  175. 

Hamilton,  Sir  W.,  70,  119,  129,  176. 

Hamlet,  53. 

Handbook  of  Psychology,  Baldwin, 
117,  246. 

Handel,  Preface  vii,  44. 

Hands,  art  developed  from  use  of, 
13-15.  65,  85-87  ;  as  distinguish- 
ing man  from  animal,  13-15. 

Harmonices  Mundi,  Kepler,  173, 

Harmony,  general,  as  the  source  of 
beauty.  127,  131-162,  173,  174, 
246-248  ;  of  effects,  as  produced 
on  the  mind,  153-156 — and  caus- 
ing beauty  when  form  in  itself  not 
beautiful,  156 ;  the  product  of 
likeness  in  effects,  1 38-141,  153, 
164-168  ;  musical,  what  its  cause, 
137-141,  138-140;  of  color,  139- 
141  ;  of  rhythm  and  proportion, 
141.     See  Beauty. 

Hartmann,  E.  von,  70,  118,  129, 
151,  173,   180,  181. 

Haweis,  H.  R.,  37,  40. 

Hay,  D.  R.,  112,  119,  127,  174. 

Haydn,  22,  26. 

Hazlitt,  W.,  112. 

Hegel,  G.  W.F.,  18,  37,  50,  60,  115, 
130,  163,  178,  179. 

Helmholtz,  H.  L.  F.  von,  113,  127. 

Henry  Vin.,  43,  80. 

Hensde,  P.  W.  van,  115. 

Herbart,  J.  F.,  116. 

Heredity,  as  manifested  in  the  play- 
impulse,  73. 

Hermann  und  Dorothea,  155, 

Het  Wezen  der  Kennis,  Opzoomer, 

173. 

Historic  Criticism,  its  deficiencies  as 
applied  to  art,  Preface  iii-vi. 

History,  of  Esthetic,  Bosanquet, 
117,  130,  174  ;  of  Architecture, 
Fergusson,  102,  176  ;  of  Modern 
Architecture,  Fergusson,  22,  93. 

Hogarth,  W.,  II,  174. 

Holbein,  80. 

Holmes-Forbes,  A.  W.,  176. 

Home,  Lord  Kames,  120,124,128,176 

Homer,  23,  253,  255,  264,  366, 

Homeric  gods,  4. 


How  They  Brought  the  Good  News 
from  Ghent,  158. 

Human,  art  is  nature  made,  3,  5,  6, 
8,  12-14  ;  being,  as  distinguished 
from  animal,  12-14,  64-66  ;  mind 
in  art,  3,  5. 

Humanities,  The,  loi,  102. 

Humanity,  the  beautiful,  the  mirror 
of,  179. 

Humbolt,  W.  von,  204. 

Hume,  D.,  129. 

Humming,  as  the  beginning  of  mu- 
sic, 84. 

Hutcheson,  F.,  118,  124,  174. 

Hypnotism,  61,  78,  144-147. 

Ice,  as  influenced  by  waves  flowing 
into  an  outlet  or  bay  compared,  at 
different  stages,  to  different  rela- 
tions between  ideas  and  motives 
tending  to  expression  in  each  of 
the  arts,  197-200. 

Idea  or 

Ideal  of  the  beautiful  indwelling  in 
mind,  35,  181;   world,  the,  60,  61. 

Idealists,  the  German,  115  ;  their 
view  of  art,  181. 

Ideality  in  sculpture,  225. 

Ideas,  as  emphasized  in  naturalistic 
or  realistic  art,  19 — in  symbolic 
and  romantic  art,  18  ;  as  expressed 
in  each  of  the  arts,  229-230 ;  as 
imitated  in  classic  art,  21  ;  how 
those  in  the  mind  are  related  to 
influence  exerted  from  without  in 
architecture,  199,  226-228,  234 — 
in  music,  198,  206-211,  221,  222, 
234 — in  painting,  198,  199,  219- 
226,  234 — in  poetry,  198,  2ir-2i6, 
220-222,  234 — in  sculpture,  198, 
225,  226,  234. 

Idyls  of  the  King,  155. 

Imagination,  appeal  to  it  in  art,  43, 
57;  as  calling  up  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings interfering  with  beautiful 
effects  of  beautiful  forms,  156- 
160  ;  as  conjuring  a  mental  form 
in  connection  with  a  form  per- 
ceived by  the  senses,  150  ;  in 
music,  151  ;  in  poetry,  152  ;  as 
causing  beauty,  180  ;  defined,  57, 
230;  exercised  in  art-construction, 


INDEX, 


277 


57,  90;  involving  association  com- 
parison and  contrast  (which  see), 
230 ;  how  modifying  effects  of 
nature,  187  ;  work  of,  in  science 
and  art,  xxxiv-xl. 

Imitation,  according  to  Aristotle, 
262-267  ;  to  Plato,  250-260;  caus- 
ing art-degeneracy,  v,  23 ;  of 
nature,  as  a  factor  of  mental  ex- 
pression, 31,  36,  82,  167,  168  ; 
as  related  to  theories  of  beauty, 
no;  as  the  aim  of  art,  37-46, 
63,  64,  67,  167,  168  ;  as  the  ex- 
pression of  the  play-impulse,  73, 
82  ;  evidences  of  it  early  in  the 
history  of  the  race,  188  ;  and  in 
the  life  of  the  individual,  190  ; 
of  art-forms  in  classic  art,  18,  21, 
no;  and  in  architecture,  Preface 
iii-v,  32  ;  of  nature  in  architecture, 
38,  43-45,  94-96,  227  ;  in  music. 
Preface  vi,  vii,  37,  38, 40, 41 ,  43, 44, 
89,  227,  228 — why  slight  in  both, 
240,  241  ;  in  painting,  38-40,  43, 
45 — why  accurate  in  this,  46  ;  in 
poetry,  38,  43,  45  ;  in  sculpture, 
38-40,  45  ;  in  the  arts  of  sight  as 
compared  together,  91-93  ;  reasons 
for  it  in  art,  46,    73,  74,  82,  83. 

Imitative  method,  128  ;  sounds,  205  ; 
developing  into  language,  214-216. 

Imitators,  23. 

Immobility,  as  related  to  art,  241, 242. 

Impressionist  School,  31. 

Impulse,  The  art-,  63,  69-80,  82  ; 
leading  to  imitation,  73  ;  the  play-, 
71,  77,  82. 

Inarticulate  utterance,  as  in  music, 
how  representative,  205,  207. 

Influence  or 

Influx  from  natural  appearances,  as 
affecting  mental  expression  ac- 
cording to  forms  of  the  different 
arts,  197-200.     See  Motive. 

In  Memoriam,  45. 

Inquiry  into  the  Original  of  our  Ideas 
of  Beauty  and  Virtue,  Hutcheson, 
118,  124,  174. 

Inspiration,  60,  61  ;  Coleridge's  test 
of  Biblical,  179;  conception  of,  as 
judged  by  its  effects,  79,  80  ;  scien- 
tific warrant  for  belief  in,  76-80. 


Instinct,  natural,  2. 

Instinctive  tendency,  3 ;  as  con- 
trasted with  reflective,  231-233  ; 
as  influencing  architecture,  paint- 
ing, and  sculpture,  234  ;  in  poetry, 
232,  234  ;  in  music,  231,  232,  235. 

Intellectual,  Influence  of  Music, 
D wight,  207,  210 ;  Powers,  Reid, 
119,  128. 

Intelligence,  its  relation  to  com- 
parison, 212  ;  poetry  the  language 
of,  212. 

Intelligibility  of  expression,  art 
representation  does  not  increase  it, 
48,  49- 

Intonations,  as  developed  in  art,  84, 
85. 

Introduction  to  Philosophy,  Ladd, 
177. 

Intuition,  beauty  a  direct,  128,   129. 

Invention,  3,  and  execution,  31. 

Ionic  architecture,  31. 

Italian  scenery,  155  ;  flag,  133. 

Italy,  art  of,  21. 

Japan,  decorative  art  of,  27. 
Jeffrey,  F.,  113,  124,177. 
Jewelry,  art  of,  98,  99. 
Jouffroy,  T.,  70,  115,  178. 
Journal  Intime,  Amiel,  1 14. 
Julius  Caesar,  53. 
Jungmann,  J.,  124,  130,  173. 

Karnes,  Lord,  120,  124,  128,176. 
Kant,  I.,   70,   109,   115,   120,    129, 

130,  150,  151.  163,  173. 
Keats,  26,  155. 

Kedney,  J.  S.,  37,  50,  130,  163. 
Kepler,  173. 
Keynote,  52. 
Kneller,  22. 
Knight,  W.,   7,  127. 
Krause,  K.  C.  F.,  175. 
Kritik  der  Urtheilskraft,   Kant,    70, 

109,  115,  120,  129,  130,  150,  174. 
Kunst  der,  des  Alterthums,  Winckel- 

mann,  120,  173. 
Kunste,    Allgemeine    Theorie    der 

Schonen,    Sulzer,    in,    175;    Ge- 

schichte  der  bildenden,  Schnaase, 

174. 


278 


AJ^T  IN   THEORY. 


Kunsten,  Theorie  van  Schoone,  en 
Wetenschappen,  Van  Alphen,  70, 
124,  175. 

Ladd,  G.  T.,  117,  177. 

Lamb,  C,  38. 

Landscape-Gardening,  15  ;  as  an  art, 
its  rank,  100,  loi  ;  its  place  in  the 
order  of  development  of  the  arts, 
223  ;  relation  in  it  of  influences 
from  without  and  of  ideas  in  the 
mind,  223  ;  representative,  loi, 
223,  240. 

Language,  as  a  result  of  association 
and  comparison,  21^-216  ;  of  the 
emotions,  music,  207-212. 

Laocoon,  Lessing,  107,  iii,  186,  220, 
224. 

La  Science  du  Beau.  Leveque,  115. 

La  Vite  di  Pittori,  Scultori  et  Archi- 
tetti  Moderni,  Bellori,  114. 

Lear,  King,  45. 

Lectures  by  the  Royal  Academicians 
on  Design,  Opie,  15,  192  ;  and  on 
Painting,  Fuseli,  3,  38,  120,  174  ; 
on  Metaphysics,  Hamilton,  70, 
119,  176  ;  on  the  Philosophy  of 
the   Human   Mind,   Brown,    113, 

177. 

Leibnitz,  G.  W.,  70,  173. 

Les  Beaux-Arts,  Batteux,  ill. 

Les  Problemes  de  I'Esthetique  Con- 
temporaine,  Guyau,  75,  178. 

Lessing,  G.  E.,  107,  ill,  186,  220, 
224. 

L'Esthetique,  Veron,  71,  129. 

Letteratura  e  Arti  Belle,  Rosmini- 
Serbati,  115,  130. 

Leveque,  C,  115. 

L'Idee  du  Beau  dans  la  Philosophie 
de  Saint  Thomas  d'Aquin,  Vallet, 
118,  127,  173,  175. 

Life-force,  excess  of,  as  the  source  of 
3-J't,  73-75  I  vital  or  emotive,  as 
the  source  of  beauty,  173,  174. 

Light  of  Nature  Pursued,  Tucker, 
70,  128. 

Like  effects  or 

Likeness,  as  the  source  of  harmony, 
138-141,  153,  164-168  ;  how  pro- 
duced in  the  mmd,  153-155  ;  in 
the  mind  and  senses  together,  164- 


168  ;  in  the  senses,  138-141  ;  occa- 
sioning beauty,  161-184,  246-248  ; 
occasioning  unity  and  other  al- 
lied requirements  of  art  composi- 
tion, 137-142,  164,  165.  See  Har- 
mony and  Beauty. 

Lincoln  Cathedral,  sculpture  in,  20. 

Lines,  when  beautiful,  135. 

London  Times,  a  critic  in,  206, 
207. 

Longfellow,  H,  W.,  41. 

Long,  S.  P.,  4,  112,  127. 

Lotze,  R.  H.,  117,  246. 

Love,  dramatic  expression  of,  27. 


Macbeth,  play,  53  ;  portrait  of  Lady, 

158. 
Mackenzie,  Sir  G.  S.,  172. 
MacVicar,    J.    G.,    109,     130,    159, 

175. 
Man,  as  distinguished  from  animal, 

12-14,  65-67,  72,  73,  84. 
Marshall,  246. 

Materialists,  view  of  beauty,  182. 
Materials  of  art,  3. 
Mathematics,  study  of,  xxxv,  xxxvi. 
Matter  as  related  to  art.  Preface  vi, 

242. 
McCosh,  J.,  119. 
Mechanic,  The,    versus  artisan  and 

artist,  16. 
Mechanical  arts,  9. 
Mediaeval  art,  25, 
Meg  Merrilies,  157. 
Meier,   F.,  175, 

Meistersinger,  The,  Wagner,  26. 
Melodies,  26. 
Melody,  52. 
Mendelssohn,  M.,  70. 
Mental,  3.     See  Mind. 
Mental  and  Moral  Science,  Bain,  71. 
Merchant  of  Venice,  53,  190. 
Mesmerism,    144.     See  Hypnotism. 
Metaphysics,    Lectures   on,   Hamil- 
ton, 70,  119,   176, 
Metaphysik  des  Schonen   und  Aes- 

thetik,  Schopenhauer,  114. 
Method,  Art  a,  1-3,  242. 
Metre,  52,  53. 
Milton,  23. 
Miltonic  angels,  4. 


INDEX, 


279 


Mind,  an  appeal  to  it  necessary  in 
art,  II,  12,  14-16,  41,  43-46;  an 
expression  of  it  necessary  in  art, 
47-61,  64,  151-160;  as  related  to 
art.  Preface  vi,  242  ;  as  a  source 
of  sense-beauty  in  form,  142,  144- 
147  ;  beauty  of  form  as  recognized 
by,  134,  142,  144  ;  effects  upon, 
needed  for  complete  effects  of 
beauty,  148-162,  184  ;  human,  3, 
6  (see  Man) ;  representation  of, 
involving  that  of  natural  appear- 
ances, 3,  36,  81-96,  167,  168  ; 
subconscious,  70  ;  vibratory  action 
of  nerves  as  related  to,  142-147, 
200,  245-248. 

Minnesingers,  20. 

Miscellaneous  Reflections,  Shaftes- 
bury, 118,  174. 

Modern  Painters,  Ruskin,  15,  39,  70, 
119,  130,  177. 

Moorish  Architecture,  155. 

Moralist,  The,  a  Philosophic  Rhap- 
sody, Shaftesbury,  118. 

Moralities,  The,  20. 

Morals,  Review  of  the  Principal 
Questions  of,  Price,  112,  127. 

Morland,  ii. 

Morgenstunden,  Mendelssohn,  70. 

Motive  inciting  ideas  within  the 
mind  to  expression  in  art,  differ- 
ence between  that  inciting  to  paint- 
ing and  to  poetry,  220,  221  ;  dif- 
ferent relations  between  ideas  and 
influences  from  without  in  each 
art,  197-200  ;  how  related  in  archi- 
tecture, 199,  226-228,  234  ;  in 
music,  198,  206-211,  221,  222, 
225,  226,  234  ;  in  painting,  198, 
199,  219-226,  234  ;  in  poetry,  198, 
211-216,  220,  221,  234  ;  in  sculp- 
ture, 198,  225,  226,  234. 

Miiller,  Max,  204. 

Music  and  Morals,  Haweis,  37, 

Music,  art  of  appreciation  and  pro- 
duction of,  by  the  young,  170, 
171  ;  association  underlying  its 
form  of  representation,  205-207, 
210,211,230;  compared  to  speech, 
236-238  ;  correspondence  to  archi- 
tecture, 94,  227,  228,  240,  241  ; 
early  forms  of  it,  189  ;  developed 


through  repetition,  52 ;  effects 
upon  the  mind,  49,  151,  152,  158, 
207-212 — and  upon  action,  207- 
212 — and  upon  both  the  mind  and 
senses,  158  ;  Greek,  251-253  ;  de- 
veloped from  voice,  84,  89,  240  ; 
expression  of  the  inarticulate  and 
indefinite,  193,  204-211,  231  ;  and 
of  the  emotions,  207-212,  234 ; 
and  of  ideas,  210  ;  expressing  sym- 
bolically the  employment  of  heav- 
en, 209  ;  harmony  in,  138,  139  ; 
ideas  of  the  mind  in,  as  related  to 
influence  from  without,  198,  206- 
211  ;  imitation  in.  Preface  vi, 
vii,  37,  38,  40-45,  89,  227,  228 — 
why  slight,  240,  241  ;  influence  of, 
indefinite,  193,  204-211 — definite, 
208,  210 — physical,  200-202 — yet 
leaving  the  mind  free,  207-210  ; 
in  what  sense  an  external  product, 
88,  89  ;  intellectual  influence  of, 
207-212  ;  instinctive  tendency  ex- 
pressed  in,  231,  232,  235  ;  its  forms 
derived  from  speech,  238  ;  lan- 
guage of  the  emotions,  207-212  ; 
mental  condition  underlying,  193, 
204-211  ;  natural,  5  ;  objective, 
235  ;  of  the  spheres,  145  ;  repre- 
sentative, not  merely  presentative. 
Preface  vii,  40-45,  103,  210,  211, 
237,  238  ;  spontaneous  action  of 
the  mind  in,  235-237  ;  subjective, 
234,  235  ;  sustained  character  of 
its  tones,  235-237  ;  treatment  of 
subject  in,  52,  240,  241  ;  used 
medicinally,  201,  202. 

Music,  Essay  on  the  Intellectual  In- 
fluence  of,  Dwight,  207,  210  ;  on 
the  Origin  and  Functions  of, 
Spencer,  238. 

Musical  beauty  of  sounds,  135; 
tones,  as  distinguished  from  those 
of  speech,  237,  238 ;  scale,  52. 

Mystery  Plays,  20. 

Natural,  2,  6  ;  beauty,  definition  of, 
163,  164,  166-167. 

Natural  Theology  of  Natural  Beauty, 
Tyrwhitt,  119. 

Naturalism  in  art,  or  the  natural- 
istic, 18,  19. 


28o 


ART  IN   THEORY, 


Nature,  its  contribution  to  art,  64, 
65,  84-88  ;  its  forms  as  influen- 
cing mental  expression  in  each  of 
the  arts,  196-200  (see  Motive)  ; 
its  forms  not  of  more  interest  to 
the  artist  than  principles  of  forma- 
tion, 186  ;  made  human  in  art,  4- 
6,  8,  10,  17  ;  reproduced  in  art,  i, 
4,  5,  6,  10,  II,  15,  67  ;  use  of  its 
forms  in  architecture,  38,  43-45, 
94-96,  104,  227,  240,  241  ;  in 
music,  Preface  vi,  vii,  37,  38,  40- 
45,  89,  103,  227,  228,  240,  241  ;  in 
poetry,  38,  43-45,  103,  104  ;  in 
painting,  38-40,43-45,  90-92,  103, 
104  ;  in  sculpture,  38-40,  43-45, 
54,  103,  104  ;  study  of  it  necessary 
to  the  artist,  10,  11, 15,  24  ;  what  it 
means,  3  ;  when  most  effective,  16. 

Nature,  light  of,  pursued,  Tucker, 
70,  128  ;  Principes  de  la,  Leibnitz, 
173. 

Nederlandsche  Aesthetik,  van 
Vloten,  118,  174,  178. 

Nervebattery,  145, 146;  vibrationsof, 
143-147,  200,  201,  203,  245-248. 

Newton,  I.,  Preface  v. 

Niobe,  group  of,  107,  154. 

Objective,  character  of  all  art  effects, 
235  ;  beauty  as,  126-130. 

Observation  in  art,  xxii-xxix. 

Of  the  Standard  of  Taste,  Hume,  129. 

Old  man's  chorus  in  Faust,  26. 

One  in  the  manifold,  essential  to 
beauty,  127,  174. 

On  the  Beautiful,  the  Picturesque, 
and  the  Sublime,  MacVicar,  109, 
130,  159.  175. 

On  a  possibility  of  a  Science  of 
/Esthetics,  Sully,  168. 

Operative  arts,  9. 

Opie,  J.,  15,  192. 

Opzoomer,  C.  W.,  173. 

Oratory  as  an  art,  14,  99-102  ;  as 
contrasted  with  poetry,  218  ;  men- 
tal condition  underlying,  193,  194, 
218  ;  needs  cultivation,  218  ;  order 
of  its  development,  psychologically, 
between  poetry  and  painting,  201, 
218  ;  representative,  100,  21S  ; 
why  not  a  highest  art,  99,  lOO. 


Oriental  scenery,  155. 

Original,  art  as,  2  ;  beauty  as,   125, 

126. 
Ornamental  arts,  9,  10. 
Outlines  of  ^Esthetics,   Lotze,   117, 

246. 

Pacchierotti,  78. 

Painting,  Art  of,  contrast  between 
the  ideas  in  its  artist's  mind  and 
the  natural  appearances  occasion- 
ing them  underlying  its  represen- 
tation of  thought,  219,  220,  222, 
224,  225,  241  ;  developed  from 
expression  through  the  use  of  the 
hand,  85-87  ;  earliest  traces  of,  in 
history,  188,  189 — in  youth,  191, 
192  ;  developed  from  expression 
through  the  use  of  all  the  body, 
91,  92  ;  difference  between  its 
motive  and  method,  and  those 
of  poetry,  220-221  ;  difference  be- 
tween its  motive  and  that  of  sculp- 
ture, 225,  226  ;  form  in,  how  de- 
veloped, 90-92  ;  ideas  in  its  artist's 
mind  as  related  to  influence  from 
without  it,  ig8,  199,  219-221, 
234,  235  ;  imitation  in,  38-40,  43, 
45 — why  accurate,  46  ;  instinctive 
tendency  expressed  in,  234  ;  men- 
tal conditions  underlying,  194, 
219-222  ;  objective,  235  ;  rank  of 
different  styles  of,  225,  226  ;  rela- 
tion of,  to  pantomime,  91,  92  ; 
responsive,  239,  240  ;  representa- 
tive, 43,  45,  90-92,  103,  104,  239, 
240  ;  reflective  tendency  expressed 
in,  232,  234  ;  relative,  234  ;  signifi- 
cance in,  xl-xlviii ;  unsustained 
condition  of  expression,  239-240. 

Painting,  Discourses  on,  Reynolds, 
38,  39,  223,  226  ;  Lectures  on, 
Fuseli,  3,  38,  120,  174. 

Palgrave,  F.  T,,  11,  119. 

Pantomime,  15,  218,  242  ;  as  an  art, 
98,  99  ;  its  relation  to  painting,  91. 

Parker,  H.  W.,  75. 

Partial  tones  in  musical  notes,  138. 

Pastoral  Symphony,  Handel,  Pref- 
ace vii,  44 ;  Beethoven,  44. 

Paul,  Preface  v. 

Pedantry  in  art,  21. 


INDEX, 


28 


Peinture.     See  Reflexions. 

Perfection,  beauty  as,  175. 

Personality,  beauty  as,  179  ;  expres- 
sion of,  in  art,  58,  59. 

Perugino,  26. 

Phidias,  79. 

Philosophical  Essays,  Stewart,  70, 
119,  120. 

Philosophic  des  Unbewussten,  von 
Hartmann,  70,  118,  151. 

Philosophy,  Introduction  to,  Ladd, 
177  ;  of  Art,  Taine,  108  ;  of  the 
Beautiful,  Knight,  7,  127  ;  of  the 
Human  Mind,  Brown,  113,  177  ; 
of  the  Unconscious,  von  Hart- 
mann, 70,  118,  151. 

Phonetic  Arts,  102. 

Physiological  ^Esthetics,  Allen,  71, 
113. 

Physiologische  Psychologic,  Grund- 
ziige  der,  Wundt,  246. 

Pictet,  A.,  70,  114. 

Picture,  as  resulting  from  hearing  a 
story,  187. 

Picturesque,  as  distinguished  from 
the  sublime  and  brilliant,  162-163. 

Picturesque,  Three  Essays  on,  Gil- 
pin, III.     See  Beautiful. 

Pitch,  52. 

Plastic  arts,  102. 

Plato,  35, 126. 127, 174, 180,  249-260 

Platonic,  115,  180,  184;  and  Aris- 
totelian, 180-184,  255,  265,  267. 

Platonists,  59,  no,  114,  126,  162, 
182,  184,  255,  265,  267. 

Play-Impulse,  77  ;  developing  musi- 
cal and  poetic  form,  85  ;  and 
veritable  works  of  art,  76.  See 
Art-Impulse. 

Pleasure,  as  the  source  of  aesthetic 
effects,  70,  245. 

Plotinus,  114. 

Poesie,  Das  Wesen  und  die  Formen 
der,  Carriere,  116. 

Poetry  and  Prose  in  Art,  Palgrave, 
II,  119. 

Poetry,  art  of,  as  appealing  to  the 
mind,  152  ;  as  contrasted  with 
oratory,  218;  beauty  of  thought 
in,  source  of,  152  ;  comparison,  as 
underlying  its  form  of  representa- 
tion,    212-216  ;    composition   in, 


52-54  ;  complexity  of  effects  in. 
152 — of  both  thought  and  form, 
158,  159  ;  developed  from  use  of 
voice,  85 — from  speech,  237,  238  ; 
difference  between  its  motive  and 
that  of  painting,  219-221  ;  early 
traces  of,  in  history,  189  —  in 
youth,  191,  192  ;  expression  of 
definite  thought,  193,  211  ;  ideas 
in  its  composer's  mind,  as  relat- 
ed to  influence  from  without,  198, 
211-216,  220,  221,  234;  imitation 
of  nature  in,  38,  43,  45  ;  instinc- 
tive tendency  expressed  in,  232, 
234  ;  in  what  sense  an  external 
product,  90  ;  language  of  intelli- 
gence, 212 — mental  condition  un- 
derlying, 193,  211-216,  220,  221  ; 
Plato's  views  of, 249-25 1,  253-255; 
representative.  Preface  vii,  43-45 f 
103,  104,  237,  238  ;  relative  rather 
than  subjective,  234  ;  reflective  ten- 
dency expressed  in,  231,  233,  234  ; 
responsive,  236  ;  school  of,  8  ; 
subjective,  234  ;  unsustained,  236- 
238  ;  treatment  as  a  whole,  54. 

Poetry  as  a  Representative  Art, 
Raymond,  104,  220,  233,  238. 

Pointed  architecture,  31. 

Pope,  A,,  154. 

Populaire  aesthetische  Beshouwin- 
gen,  etc..  Flock,  112. 

Poussins,  39. 

Poynter,  E.  J.,  119. 

Presentative  Art,  not  an  accurate 
term.  Preface  vi,  40-45,  103. 

Price,  R.,  112,  127. 

Principes   de   la    Nature,    Leibnitz, 

173. 
Principles  of    Psychology,    Spencer, 

71.  113. 

Proclus,  114  ;  of  Cousin,  114. 

Products,  3,  8  ;  external,  essential  to 
the  highest  art,  87-92,  98,  99. 

Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  Green, 
117. 

Proportion,  141,  142,  168;  beauty 
of,  120,  127;  sense  of,  xxx. 

Proportion,  or  the  Geometric  Prin- 
ciples of  Beauty,  Hay,  112. 

Psychologic  und  Hauptpunkte  der 
Metaphysik,  Herbart,    Il6. 


282 


ART  IN   THEORY. 


Psychology,  Dewey,  117  ;  Hand- 
book of,  Baldwin,  117,  245,  246; 
Principles  of,  Spencer,  71,  113  ; 
article  in  Encyclopedia  Britan- 
nica.  Ward,  246. 

Purdie,  T.,  113. 

Pythagoras,  145,  173. 


Queen  Anne  Style  of  Architecture, 

25. 
Quilter,  H.,  178. 
Quincy,  de,  A.  C.  Q.,  114,  175, 


Raphael,  Preface  v,  23,  26,  30,  39, 

108,  159. 
Real  existences,  the  subjects  of  art- 
reproduction,  4. 
Realism    and    Idealism,    Symonds, 

119. 
Realistic  art,  18,  19. 
Reality,  compared  to  dream  life,  60. 
Reapplied,    natural    effects    in   art, 

3,  5. 
Rearranged,  natural  appearances  in 

art,  3,  5. 
Recent  Conversations  in  a  Studio, 

Story,  39,  186, 
Recherches  sur  I'Art  Statuaire,  etc. 

!Emeric-David,  iii. 
Recombined,  natural  appearances  in 

art,  3,  5. 
Reflective  tendency  in  expression,  as 

contrasted   with   instinctive,    205, 

231-233. 
Reflexions  Critique  sur  la  Poesie  et 

la  Peinture,  Du  Bos,   7,   238  ;  et 

Menus-Propos  d'un  Peintre  Gene- 

vois,  etc.,  Topffer,  114. 
Reformation,  The,  influence  of,  on 

art,  20. 
Regularity,  interfering  with  effects  of 

beauty,  109,  159. 
Reid,  Thomas,  119,  128. 
Relative  beauty,  123-126. 
Religion  and  art,  xx,  xxi,  xxxii-li. 
Remade,  as  applied  to  use  of  natural 

appearances  in  art,  3-5. 
Rembrandt,  39. 
Renaissance,   the,  effect  of,   on  art, 

21,155. 


Repetition,  themethodof  elaborating 
form  in  each  art,  vii,  viii,  51-54. 

Representation,  of  mind  involving 
that  of  natural  appearances,  and 
vice  versa,  81-96  ;  the  method  of 
elaborating  form  in  each  art, 
Preface  vii,  viii,  3,  4,  51-54.  See 
Representative, 

Representative,  art  is  this  rather 
than  presentative,  Preface  vi-viii, 
40-45,  103,  104 — rather  than  imi- 
tative, 42-46,  62,  63,  167,  168 — 
rather  than  communicative,  54-63  ; 
earliest  tendency  to  this  form  of 
art  in  history  of  the  race,  188-190 
— in  life  of  the  individual  190- 
192  ;  expression  made  this  by 
application  of  the  principle  of 
association,  205-208,  210,  211, 
227,  228 — of  comparison,  205,  206, 
212-216,  218,  227,  228,  230,  231 
— by  means  of  inarticulate  intona- 
tions, 44,  84,  204,  207  ;  of  both 
mind  and  nature,  56,  237-240 ; 
the  arts  rightly  named  this,  and 
their  different  classes.  Preface  vi- 
viii,  56,  97-105  ;  the  term  shown 
to  apply  to  effects  or  methods  of 
architecture,  43,  94-96,  104,  239, 
240 — of  landscape  gardening,  loi, 
223 — of  music.  Preface  vi,  vii, 
40-45,  103,  210,  211,  237,  238— 
of  oratory,  100,  218 — of  painting, 
43,  45,  90-92,  103,  104,  239,  240 
— of  poetry,  Preface  vii,  43-45, 
90,  103,  104,  237,  238 — of  sculp- 
ture, 43,  45,  54,  103,  104,  239,  240. 

Reproduced,  as  applied  to  use  of 
natural  appearances  in  art,  5,  46. 

Reshaped,  as  applied  to  use  of  natu- 
ral appearances  in  art,  3,  5. 

Review  of  the  Principal  Questions  of 
Morals,  Price,  112,  127. 

Reynolds,  Sir  J.,  4,  22,  38,  39,  41, 
223,  226. 

Rhetoric,  as  an  art,  99-101,  218. 

Rhyme,  152;  its  characteristic  feat- 
ure,  52. 

Rhythm,  152,  165  ;  its  characteristic 
feature,  52,  141,  142, 

Robbers,  The,  Schiller,  27. 

Robert  Burns,  Tyler,  178. 


INDEX. 


283 


Romanesque,  architecture,  31  ;  na- 
tions, 20. 

Romanticism,  as  related  to  theories 
of  beauty,  no. 

Romantic  tendency  in  art,  as  con- 
trasted with  the  classic,  17-33. 

Rome,  21. 

Rosa,  Salvator,  4,  39. 

Rosmini-Serbati,  A,,  115,  130. 

Rubens,  23,  39, 

Ruskin,  J.,  15,  39,  70,  119,  130,  176, 

Ruysdael,  154. 

Salvator,  39. 

Sargent,  158. 

Sartor  Resartus,  Carlyle,  177. 

Schelling,  F.  W.  J.,  70,  115,  130. 

Schiller,  F.  von,  23,  27,  71,  118. 

Schlegel,  F.  von,  175,  177. 

Schnaase,  K.  J.  F.,  174. 

Schonen,  Allgemeine  Theorie  der, 
Kunste,  Solger,  in,  175  ;  An- 
fangsgriinde  der,  Wissenschaften, 
Meier,  175. 

Schone,  Ueber  das,  Bergmann,  129. 

School  of  Painting,  Sculpture,  and 
Music,  French,  8. 

Schopenhauer,  A.,  69,  114,  118. 

Science  and  art,  xx-xxiii,  xxxii-1. 

Science  and  Thought,  Miiller,  204. 

Science  of  Esthetics,  Day,  93  ;  of 
Beauty,  Holmes-Forbes,  176  ;  as 
Developed  in  Nature  and  Applied 
in  Art,  Hay,  174. 

Scotch  bagpipe,  133  ;  plaid,  133. 

Scotchman,  133. 

Scott,  SirW.,  23,  28;  W.  B.,  175. 

Sculpture,  as  expressing  will,  226  ; 
composition  in,  54  ;  contrasted 
with  painting,  225,  226  ;  developed 
from  use  of  hands,  85-87,  go-92  ; 
from  expression  through  the  use 
of  body,  go-92  ;  early  develop- 
ment of ,  189;  ideality  and  imita- 
tion in,  225  ;  ideas  in  its  artist's 
mind  as  related  to  influence  from 
without,  198,  225,  226,  234,  235, 
241  ;  instinctive,  234  ;  imitation 
in,  38-40,  45  ;  mental  condition 
underlying,  194,  225,  226  ;  repre- 
sentative, 43,  45,  54,  103,  104, 
239,    240 ;     reflective,     232-334 ; 


relative,  234 ;  school  of,  8  ; 
thought  in,  as  distinguished  from 
that  in  architecture,  239. 

Sensation  and  Intuition,  Studies  in 
Psychology  and  /Esthetics,  Sully, 
71,  124,  173. 

Senses,  The,  art  not  appealing  to  the 
lower,  taste,  touch,  and  smell,  but 
only  to  the  eye  or  ear,  12,  42,  103  ; 
beauty  as  an  effect  produced  on, 
71,  111-113,  129,  132-147,  151, 
161,  162  ;  but  not  wholly  produced 
on,  151-153,  156-159,  161,  162, 
170  ;  why  the  blind  or  deaf  cannot 
imagine  sights  or  sounds,  146. 

Sententiae  Artis,  Quilter,  178. 

Shaftesbury,  Lord,  118,  174. 

Shakespeare,  v,  xxvi,  11,  22,  23, 
28,  41,  43,  45,  53,  190. 

Shape,  beauty  ascribed  to,  and  de- 
nied to,  120,  133. 

Shenstone,  W.,  174. 

Siegfried,  Preface,  vii,  26,  43,  44. 

Sight,  arts  of,  12. 

Significance,  as  antagonistic  to  form 
in  art,  17-33  ;  ^.s  entering  into 
the  effect  of  beauty,  108,  109.  113- 
ii6,  121,  122,  133,  134,  151-160, 
245,  ;  as  essential  to  effects  of  art, 
47-61  ;  in  inarticulate  intonations, 
205-248  ;  harmony  of  effects  be- 
tween it  and  form,  151-155 — be- 
tween different  elements  of  it,  154; 
vs.  form,  xli-xlviii. 

Signes  Inconditionnels  de  I'Art,  De 
Superville,  112. 

Sistine  Chapel,  79. 

Smell,  sense  of,  12. 

Socrates,  Preface  v. 

Soldiers'  chorus,  Faust,  26. 

Solger,  U.  W.  F.,  113,  177. 

Soul,  what  is  meant  by  expression  of, 
234  ;  connection  between  this  and 
the  instinctive,  reflective,  and  emo- 
tive, 234. 

Sound,  arts  of,  12  ;  complex  when 
beautiful,  135. 

Space  as  the  medium  of  representa- 
tion in  painting,  sculpture,  and 
architecture,  222,  241,  242. 

Speech  as  developing  into  music, 
236-238. 


284 


ART  IN   THEORY, 


Spencer,  H.,  71,  73,  113,  238. 

Spenser,  E.,  22. 

Spieltrieb,  71. 

Spirit  of  Beauty,  The,  Parker,  75. 

Spirit,  as  expressed  in  art,  59-61  ; 
as  existing  apart  from  the  body, 
146. 

Stael,  Madame  de,  227. 

St.  Agnes'  Eve,  Keats,  155. 

Standards  of  Taste,  169-171  ;  why 
no  conventional  ones  are  accepted 
as  are  those  of  conscience  and 
judgment,  170,  171. 

Star-Spangled  Banner,  152. 

Statuaire.     See  Recherches. 

Stewart,  D.,  70,  119,  120. 

Story,  W.  W.,  39,  186. 

St.  Peter's,  Rome,  79. 

Styles  of  Architecture,  24. 

Subconscious  mind,  70,  77,  78. 

Subjective,  beauty,  126-130  ;  expres- 
sion in  different  arts,  234,  235. 

Suggestion  in  art,  xlviii-1. 

Sully,  J.,  71,  124,  168,  173. 

Sulzer,  J.  G.,  iii,  127,  175. 

Superville,  H.  de,  112,  127. 

Sustained  tones,  as  in  music,  236-238. 

Symbolic  tendency  in  art,  18  ;  as  a 
characteristic  of  beauty,  177. 

Symington,  A.  J.,  115. 

Symmetry,  127,  142. 

Symonds,  J.  A.,  119. 

Sympathies,  appeal  of  art  to  the,  44, 
58  ;  as  an  element  of  beauty,  179, 
180. 

System,  der  Aesthetik  als  Wissen- 
schaft  von  der  Idee  des  Schonen, 
Weisse,  130 ;  der  Aesthetik, 
Krause,  175. 

Taine,  H.,  108. 

Talking  tones,  as  distinguished  from 
musical,  237,  238. 

Tannhauser,  152. 

Taste,  aesthetic,  169-171  ;  cultiva- 
tion of,  169,  170;  standards  of, 
127  ;  standards  of,  not  made  con- 
ventional and  accepted  like  those 
of  conscience  and  judgment,  169, 
170  ;  why  the  lower  sense  of  taste 
is  not  exercised  or  addressed  in  the 
higher  arts,  12. 


Taste,  Essays  on,  Gerard,  174,  176; 

Shenstone,    174;    Voltaire,    ill  ; 

Nature  and  Principles  of,  Alison, 

113.  177  I  some  subjects  connected 

with,  Mackenzie,    172  ;    standard 

of,  Hume,  129. 
Technique,  painters  who  care  only 

for,  30. 
Teniers,  23. 
Ten    Lectures    on     Art,     Poynter, 

119. 
Tennyson,  xxvi,  26,  45. 
Terry,  Ellen,  portrait  of,  158, 
The    Beautiful    and     the    Sublime, 

Kedney,  130. 
The  Beautiful  in  Nature,  Art,  and 

Life,  Symington,  115. 
The  Genesis  of  Art-Form,  Raymond, 

155,  164. 

The  Gentle  Art  of  Making  Enemies, 
Whistler,  112. 

The  Light  of  Nature  Pursued, 
Tucker,   70,   128. 

The  Moralist,  a  Philosophic  Rhap- 
sody, Shaftesbury,  118. 

Theorie  van  Schoone  Kunsten  en 
Wetenschappen,  von  Alphen,  70, 
124,  175. 

Theory  of  Fine  Art,  Torrey,  177. 

Theory  of  the  Beautiful,  Todhunter, 
178. 

The  Sublime  and  Beautiful,  Burke, 
70,  III,  162. 

Thought,  as  conjured  by  imagina- 
tion in  connection  with  sense- 
perception,  150-152,  156-160; 
expression  of,  in  art,  14,  16,  17, 
47-61,  81-96 ;  in  music  and 
poetry,  151,  152  ;  in  the  mind,  as 
determined  by  vibrations,  143- 
147  ;  inseparably  connected  with 
words,  204,  206.  See  Expression 
and  Significance. 

Thoughts  on  Art,  Philosophy,  and 
Religion,  Dobell,  175. 

Three  Essays  on  the  Picturesque, 
Gilpin,  III. 

Time,  as  the  medium  of  representa- 
tion in  music  and  poetry,  222, 
241,  242. 

Titian,  Preface,  v,  23,  39. 

Todhunter,  J.,  178. 


INDEX. 


285 


Tone,  beauty  of,  163  ;  complex, 
when  beautiful,  135  ;  harmony  of, 
how  caused,  137-142  ;  partial  and 
prime,  138 ;  significance  of,  as 
applied  to  painting,   139. 

Topffer,  R.,  114. 

Torrey,  J.,  177. 

Touch,  sense  of,  why  not  exercised, 
or  addressed,  in  higher  arts,  12. 

Traditionalism  in  art,  Preface  v. 

Traite   du   Beau,  de  Crousaz,    124, 

174; 

Traite  des  Verites  Premieres,  Buffier, 

124. 
Transport,  arts  of,  242. 
Trattato    del    Bello,    Gioberti,    70, 

178. 
Tristan  und  Isolde,  26,  27. 
Troubadours,  20. 
True,    The,    as   the   beautiful,  176, 

177. 
Truth,  Essay  on,  Beattie,  176. 
Tyler,  S.,  178. 
Typical  Forms  and  Special  Ends  in 

Creation,  McCosh,  119. 
Tyrwhitt,  St.  J.,  119. 


Ueber  das  Schone,  Bergmann,  129. 

Ugliness  in  art,  108. 

Unconscious  nature  or  intelligence, 
70,  77,  78. 

Unities,  The  Greek  law  of  the,  155 

Unity,  Bond  of,  between  all  the  arts, 
34-36,  62  ;  in  variety,  as  the  source 
of  beauty,  127,  136,  137,  162,  164, 
165,  168,  174,  175,  245  ;  as  the 
source  of  harmony,  or  likeness  of 
effects,  136-137,  162,  164,  165. 

Unnatural,  The,  not  artistic,  2,  5,  67. 

Unsustained  tones,  as  used  in  speech, 
as  distinguished  from  music,  236- 
238,  243  ;  corresponding  tendency 
of  expression  in  painting  and 
sculpture,  238,  239. 

Upholstery,  as  an  art,  98. 

Useful  arts,  9,  10. 

Utility,  9  ;  in  the  sense  of  adapta- 
bility, essential  to  beauty,  176 ; 
material,  not  the  aim  of  art,  66, 
69,  82,  85-87,  89,  90,  92  ;  the 
influence  of  in  architecture,  93. 


Vallet,  P.  118,  127,  173,  175. 

Variety,  Unity  in,  the  source  of 
beauty,  127,  136,  137,  162,  164, 
165,  168,  174,  175,  245  ;  necessary 
to  dramatic  effects,  27. 

Veron,  E.,  71,  129. 

Vibratory  theory  of  sound  and  color, 
138-140;  as  related  to  aesthetics, 
146  ;  largest  waves  and  prof oundest 
influence  upon  emotions  in  music  ; 
smallest  waves  and  least  influence 
in  architecture,  200-202  ;  origin  of 
the  effects  of  beauty  in  the  senses 
and  the  mind,  138-141,  143-147, 
245-248. 

Vicksburg,  212,  220  . 

Virgil,  23. 

Vischer,  F.  T.,  115,  116,  179. 

Visible  expression,  242. 

Vitruvius,  Pollio  M.,  iii,  127,  174. 

Vloten,  J.  van,  118,  174,  178. 

Vocal  organs  as  distinguishing  man 
from  animals,  13,  65. 

Voice,  use  of,  underlying  music  and 
poetry,  14,  47,  65,  84. 

Voices  of  the  Night,  41. 

Voltaire,  iii,  127. 

Vorlesungen  uber  Aesthetik,  Solger, 

113,  177- 
Vorschule   der  Aesthetik,   Fechner, 
116. 

Wagner,  Preface  v,  vii,  22,  26-28, 
43,  152. 

Wagnerian  opera,  160. 

Wahrheit  und  Dichtung,  ii. 

Ward,  246. 

Waterloo,  212,  220. 

Waves,  at  different  stages  of  progress 
influencing  the  ice  in  a  bay,  com- 
pared to  the  different  relations  be- 
tween motive  and  ideas  tending  to 
expression  in  each  of  the  arts,  197- 
200.     See  Vibratory  Theory. 

Webster,  N.,  42,  55. 

Weisse,  C.  H.,  130, 

Wellington,  212,  220. 

Wells  Cathedral,  20. 

Werther,  Sorrows  of,  27. 

Whistler,  J.  M.,  112. 

Whitman,  Walt,  28,  29. 

Wilson,  39. 


286 


ART  IN   THEORY. 


Winckelmann,  J.  J.,   120,  173. 

Words,  as  results  of  mental  asso- 
ciation and  comparison,  214- 
216  ;  inseparably  connected  with 
thought,  204,  206  ;  outward  signs 
of  internal  moods,  107  ;  their  use 
in  poetry  as  indicative  of  ideas 
actually  stored  in  the  mind,  220, 
221. 


Wordsworth,  23,  28. 

Works  of  art,  i  ;  may  be  due  to  a 

play-impulse,  76. 
Wundt,  W.  246. 

Yankee  Doodle,  152. 
Yellow  Book,  xxix. 

Zeising,  A.,  113,  118,  127,  246. 
Zoonomia,  E.  Darwin,  71,  176. 


POEMS  BY  PROF.  GEO.  L.  RAYMOND 

A  Life  in  Song.     i6°,  cloth  extra,  gilt  top  ....     $1.25 

"  Mr.  Raymond  is  a  poet,  with  all  that  the  name  implies.  He  has  the  true  fire — there  is 
no  disputing  that.  There  is  thought  of  an  elevated  character,  the  diction  is  pure,  the 
versification  is  true,  the  meter  correct,  and  ,  .  ,  affords  innumerable  quotations  to  fortify 
and  instruct  one  for  the  struggles  of  life." — Hartford  Post.  ^ 

"  Marked  by  a  fertility  and  strength  of  imagination  worthy  of  our  first  poets.  .  .  .  The 
versification  throughout  is  graceful  and  thoroughly  artistic,  the  imagery  varied  and  spon- 
taneous, .  .  .  the  multitude  of  contemporary  bardlings  may  find  in  its  sincerity  of  pur- 
pose and  loftiness  of  aim  a  salutary  inspiration." — The  Literary  World  (Boston). 

"Original  and  noble  thoughts,  gracefully  put  into  verse.  .  .  .  Mr.  Raymond  thoroughly 
understands  the  true  poet's  science,  man." — The  Literary  IVor id  (JLondon). 

"  Here,  for  instance,  are  lines  which,  if  printed  in  letteis  of  gold  on  the  front  of  every 
pulpit,  and  practised  by  every  one  behind  one,  would  transform  the  face  of  the  theological 
world.  ...  In  short,  if  you  are  in  search  of  ideas  that  are  unconventional  and  up-to-date, 
get  'A  Life  in  Song,'  and  read  it."  —  Unity. 

"  The  poet  has  '  a  burden '  as  conscious  and  urgent  as  the  prophet  of  old.  His  is  a 
'story  with  a  purpose,'  and  very  deftly  and  effectively  is  it  sung  into  the  ear  of  the  cap- 
tivated listener.  .  .  .  Wonderful  versatility  and  mastery  of  the  poetic  art  are  shown  m 
the  manipulation  of  speech  to  the  service  of  thought.  .  .  .  Professor  Raymond  has  re- 
vealed a  metrical  genius  of  the  highest  order." — The  Watchman. 

"A  remarkably  fine  study  of  the  hopes,  aspirations,  and  disappointments  of  .  .  .  an 
American  modern  life.  ...  Is  not  only  dramatic  in  tendency,  but  is  singularly  realis- 
tic and  acute.  .  ._  .  The  volume  will  appeal  to  a  large  class  of  readers  by  reason  of  its 
clear,  musical,  flexible  verse,  its  fine  thought,  and  its  intense  human  interest," — Boston 
Transcript. 

Ballads,  and  Other  Poems.     16°,  cloth  extra,  gilt  top     .        .        $1.25 

"  Notable  examples  of  what  may  be  wrought  of  native  material  by  one  who  has  a  taste- 
ful ear  and  practised  hand.  .  .  .  There  is  true  enjoyment  in  all  that  he  has  written." — 
Boston  Globe. 

"A  very  unusual  success,  a  success  to  which  genuine  poetic  power  has  not  more  con- 
tributed than  wide  reading  and  extensive  preparation.  The  ballads  overflow,  not  only 
with  the  general,  but  with  the  very  particular  truths  of  history." — Cincinnati  Tiynes. 

"A  work  of  true  genius,  brimful  of  imagination  and  sweet  humanity." — The  Fireside 
(London). 

"  Fine  and  strong,  its  thought  original  and  suggestive,  while  its  expression  is  the  very 
perfection  of  narrative  style.    — The  N.  Y.  Critic. 

"  Proves  beyond  doubt  that  Mr.  Raymond  is  the  possessor  of  a  poetic  faculty  which  is 
worthy  of  the  most  careful  and  conscientious  cultivation." — N.  Y.  Evening-  Post. 

"A  very  thoughtful  study  of  character  .  .  .  great  knoivledge  of  aims  and  motives.  .  .  . 
Such  as  read  this  poem  will  derive  from  it  a  benefit  more  lasting  than  the  mere  pleasure  of 
the  moment." — The  Spectator  (X.ondon) . 

"  Mr.  Raymond  is  a  poet  emphatically,  and  not  a  scribbler  in  rhyme." — Literary 
Churchman  (London). 

The  Aztec  God  and  Other  Dramas.     16",  cloth  extra,  gilt  top   .   $1.25 

"  The  three  dramas  included  in  this  volume  represent  a  felicitous,  intense,  and  me- 
lodious expression  of  art  both  from  the  artistic  and  poetic  point  of  view.  .  .  .  Mr. 
Raymond's  power  is  above  all  that  of  psychologist,  and  added  thereto  are  the  richest 
products  of  the  imagination  both  in  form  and  spirit.  The  book  clearly  discloses  the  work 
of  a  man  possessed  of  an  extremely  refined  critical  poise,  of  a  culture  pure  and_  classical, 
and  a  sensitive  conception  of  what  is  sweetest  and  most  ravishing  in  tone-quality.  The 
most  delicately  perceptive  ear  could  not  detect  a  flaw  in  the  mellow  and  rich  music  of  the 
blank  verse." — Public  Opittion. 

".  .  .  The  plot  is  exceedingly  interesting  and  well  executed.  .  .  .  It  is  careful 
work,  strong  and  thoughtful  in  its  conception." — Worcester  Spy. 

"As  fine  lines  as  are  to  be  found  anywhere  in  English.  ,  .  .  Sublime  thought  fairly 
leaps  in  sublime  expression.  ...  As  remarkable  for  its  force  of  epigram  as  for  its 
loftiness  of  conception." — Cle^ieland  World. 

"  There  are  countless  quotable  passages  in  Professor  Raymond's  fine  verse.  .  .  . 
The  work  is  one  of  unusual  power  and  brilliancy,  and  the  thinker  or  the  student  of  liter- 
ature will  find  the  book  deserving  of  careful  study." — Toledo  Blade. 

"...  'Columbus '  one  finds  a  work  which  it  is  difficult  to  avoid  injuring  with  ful- 
some praise.  The  character  of  the  great  discoverer  is  portrayed  grandly  and  greatly. 
.  .  .  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  anyone  who  cares  for  that  which  is  best  in  litera- 
ture    ,     .     .     could  fail  to  be  strengthened  and  uplifted." — N.  Y.  Press. 

Dcinte  and  Collected  Verse.  Just  issued.  16°,  cloth  extra,  gilt  top.  $1.25 
G.   P.   PUTNAM'S  SONS,   New  York  and  London. 


OTHER  WORKS  BY  PROF.  GEO.  L.  RAYMOND 
The  Essentials  of  ^Esthetics.     8vo.     Illustrated        .         .    Net,  $2.50 

This  work,  which  is  mainly  a  compendium  of  the  author's  system  of  Comparative 
^Esthetics,  previously  published  in  seven  volumes,  was  prepared,  by  request,  for  a  text- 
book, and  for  readers  whose  time  is  too  limited  to  study  the  minutiae  of  the  subject. 

"  We  consider  Professor  Raymond  to  possess  something  like  an  ideal  equipment.  .  .  . 
His  own  poetry  is  genuine  and  delicately  constructed,  his  appreciations  are  true  to  high 
ideals,  and  his  power  of  scientific  analysis  is  unquestionable,'  .  .  .  He  "was  known, 
when  a  student  at  Williams,  as  a  musician  and  a  poet— the  latter  because  of  taking,  in  his 
freshman  year,  a  prize  in  verse  over  the  whole  college.  After  graduating  in  this  country, 
he  went  through  a  course  of  aesthetics  with  Professor  Vischer  of  the  University  of  Tu- 
bingen, and  also  with  Professor  Curtius  at  the  time  when  that  historian  of  Greece  was 
spending  several  hours  a  week  with  his  pupils  among  the  marbles  of  the  Berlin  Museum. 
Subsequently,  believing  that  all  the  arts  are,  primarily,  developments  of  different  forms 
of  expression  through  the  tones  and  movements  of  the  body.  Professor  Raymond  made  a 
thorough  study,  chiefly  in  Paris,  of  methods  of  cultivating  and  using  the  voice  in  both 
singing  and  speaking,  and  of  representing  thought  and  emotion  through  postures  and 
gestures.  It  is  a  result  of  these  studies  that  he  afterwards  developed,  first,  into  his 
methods  of  teaching  elocution  and  literature  "  (as  embodied  in  his  '  Orator's  Manual ' 
and  '  The  Writer ')  "and  later  into  his  aesthetic  system.  .  .  .  A  Princeton  man  has  said 
of  him  that  he  has  as  keen  a  sense  for  a  false  poetic  element  as  a  bank  expert  for  a 
counterfeit  note ;  and  a  New  York  model  who  posed  for  him,  when  preparing  illustrations 
for  one  of  his  books,  said  that  he  was  the  only  man  that  he  had  ever  met  who  could 
invariably,  without  experiment,  tell  him  at  once  what  posture  to  assume  in  order  to  rep- 
resent any  required  sentiment." — New  York  Times. 

"  So  lucid  in  expression  and  rich  in  illustration  that  every  page  contains  matter  of  deep 
interest  even  to  the  general  reader." — Boston  Herald. 

"  Its  superior  in  an  effective  all-round  discussion  of  its  subject  is  not  in  sight." 

The  Outlook  (N.  Y.) 
"  Dr.  Raymond's  book  will  be  invaluable.    He  shows  a  knowledge  both  extensive  and 
exact  of  the  various  fine  arts  and  accompanies  his  ingenious  and  suggestive  theories  by 
copious  illustrations." — The  Scotsman  (Edinburgh). 

Published  by  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  27  West  23d  St.,  New  York. 


The  Psychology  of  Inspiration,    8vo    ....        Net,  $1.40 

An  attempt  to  distinguish  Religious  from  Scientific  Truth  and  to  Harmonize  Chris- 
tianity with  Modem  Thought. 

Dr.  J.  Mark  Baldwin,  Professor  of  Psychology  in  John  Hopkins  University,  says  that 
its  psychological  position  is  "new  and  valuable  ;  Dr.  W.  T.  Harris,  late  United  States 
Commissioner  of  Education,  says  that  it  is  sure  "to  prove  helpful  to  many  who  find  them- 
selves on  the  border  line  between  the  Christian  and  the  non-Christian  beliefs"  ;  and  Dr. 
Edward  Everett  Hale  says  "no  one  has  approached  the  subject  from  this  point  of  view." 

"A  book  that  everybody  should  read.  .  .  .  medicinal  for  profest  Christians,  and 
full  of  guidance  and  encouragement  for  those  finding  themselves  somewhere  between  the 
desert  and  the  town.  The  sane,  fair,  kindly  attitude  taken  gives  of  itself  a  profitable  les- 
son. The  author  proves  conclusively  that  his  mind — and  if  his,  why  not  another? — can 
be  at  one  and  the  same  time  sound,  sanitary,  scientific,  and  essentially  religious." — The 
Examiner^  Chicago. 

"It  is,  we  think,  difficult  to  overestimate  the  value  of  this  volume  at  the  present  critical 
pass  in  the  history  of  Christianity." — The  Arena,  Boston. 

"  The  author  has  taken  up  a  task  calling  for  heroic  effort;  and  has  given  us  a  volume 
worthy  of  careful  study,     .     .     .     The  conclusion  is  certainly  very  reasonable." 

Christian  Intelligencer.,  New  York, 

"  The  author  writes  with  logic  and  a  *  sweet  reasonableness '  that  will  doubtless  con- 
vince many  halting  minds.      It  is  an  inspiring  book." — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"  Interesting,  suggestive,  helpful." — Boston  Congregntionalist. 

"Thoughtful,  reverent,  suggestive." — Lutheran  Observer.,  Philadelphia. 
Published  by  FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY,  44  East  23d  St.,  New  York. 


The  Orators'  Manual,  a  Text-Book  of  Vocal  Culture  and 

Gesture  ...  in  constant  demand  for  years.  ,  .  Net,  $I.I2 
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Date  Due 

N  1 .9  •, 

19 

f) 

